Molly Hooper and the Adventure of being Sherlock's flatmate
by KendraPendragon
Summary: With John moving out and Mrs. Hudson leaving to live with her family in Australia, Molly finds herself as Sherlock's new flatmate (she has no idea how this happened). Can this end in something other than a big fat disaster? Post-Reichenbach, chaos, fun, fluff and a little steam later on. Might have to adjust the rating at some point.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I always wondered what it would be like if Sherlock and Molly shared a flat. This is my attempt on writing a story about it. I want to keep it light and funny, fluffy and somewhat steamy later on. I hope you like it. Anyway, let me know. :)

* * *

It was a quiet day at the morgue. Molly hated quiet days. It only meant one thing: Filing.

Gosh, she hated filing. Of course she knew it was a necessary thing to do but she hated it anyway. She would rather drown in a pile of corpses than to constantly fill out paperwork.

Oh, that wasn't a nice thing to think. Of course she didn't mean that she wanted people to die so she wouldn't have to do this disliked task. She would do this her whole life if she could save lives with it, it was just that she…

"Molly, you're ranting", the pathologist scolded herself in a deep voice and let out a little laugh. She loved imitating Sherlock's voice. Throughout the years she had become quite good at it. Not his deep, full baritone, but his posh way of talking…

_Oh no, don't think about him again, or you will sort everything wrong like the last four times!_

Thinking about Sherlock was only helpful when she did an autopsy. It was crazy, but she liked to imagine him standing next to her, looking over her shoulder. In a very weird way, it helped her to focus on her task. She looked out for the little details, anything that could tell her the person's history. It was kind of an imaginary battle against him and sometimes her 'imaginary detective' even pointed things out to her.

"Maybe I really am losing my mind over him", Molly muttered to herself as she put the folder of Mrs. Hammersmith's behind Mr. Gordon's file.

That's what Mary always said when they were talking about him. Which happened a lot lately because John and Mary wanted to move in together and…well, Sherlock wasn't making it easy. Mary and him were still eyeing each other with caution. Mary couldn't forgive that he had put John through hell by faking his death and Sherlock couldn't forgive her that she had punched him the first time they met. Oh, how Molly would have loved to see the look on Sherlock's face.

"Again, not very nice, Molly", she commented on her own thinking.

To be fair, Sherlock wasn't the big sod he had been. At least not to her. Molly guessed that it was his way of saying thank you. She didn't care, really. Even if he would have been an even bigger sod, she still would have wanted him back in her life. But if he wanted to try being friendly to her, she would do no such thing as to tell him that.

While Molly was lost in her musings and busy with filing, the doors to her little office swung open and John walked in. She turned her head and smiled at him, waiting for Sherlock to enter, but John already closed the door.

"All alone tonight?" Molly joked. She was guessing that Sherlock was already occupying her lab.

"Yes, actually."

_Hm, that's weird._

"What's wrong?"

John looked…nervous? He was pacing through the limited space of the room.

"Did something happen to Sherlock?"

"No, no, he's fine…well, as fine as he can be under these circumstances."

_Ah, so that's what it's about._

Molly sighed and stopped filing (she really wasn't sad about that).

"What did he do now? Did he insult Mary? Did she punch him again?"

John chuckled and looked at Molly.

"No. Mary doesn't set a foot into 221b. I don't want World War III in there."

Molly smiled and sat down at the desk, gesturing John to take a seat, as well.

"Then what is it?"

John cleared his throat and folded his hands on the table just to rest them in his lap a second later.

"I think I can't move out", he finally said.

"Oh, come one. Sherlock will get over it sooner or later. He's just pouting. He thinks you love her more than him."

John laughed. He had come to like her weird sense of humor.

"Yeah, maybe that, too. But Mrs. Hudson is concerned, as well. We both think it's not a good idea to let him live on his own."  
"Well, she'll be there to keep him company in the rare times he needs someone to talk to, and she'll make sure he doesn't starve to death. And you'll be around, too. You work together. It will be different, of course, but he'll come around."

"Mrs. Hudson is not getting any younger and…she is thinking about moving to Australia. She has a niece there. Her family invited her to live with them."

"What?"

"Yeah."

They looked at each other. Molly bit her lower lip. She knew how much Sherlock loved Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh, boy. That indeed is something to worry about…can't we talk her out of it? No, of course we can't. It's Mrs. Hudson's life, after all. She took care of him long enough."

"Exactly my thought. She is thinking of staying just for him, but I don't think it's fair."

Molly let out a sigh and rested her head in her hand.

"That really is a lot of change for Sherlock Holmes. To lose you _and_ Mrs. Hudson…he will be unbearable…and lonely."

"This is what I'm trying to prevent…and this is why I'm here."

Molly looked up.

"What do you mean?"

John took a deep breath and leaned forward.

"Molly…I know this is a lot to ask, maybe even too much. But you care about him just as much as I do. Maybe even more…Would you , maybe, consider…"

"Oh no. No, no, no, no, no."

Molly shook her head repeatedly and pulled back from the desk until her chair bumped into the cabinet.

"You can't mean…Me, moving in with Sherlock? You must be out of your mind!"

Molly shot up from her chair. John did the same and stopped her before she could flee the room.

"Please, hear me out first. Living with Sherlock is not that hard. He will ignore you for most of the time, anyway."

"Thanks", she commented dryly.

"You know what I mean, when he's in his mind palace. From all the people I know, you're the one who knows him the longest. You know all his faults and you deal with them very well. You can do this."

"I deal with them well because Sherlock is trying to be nice when he's here. That doesn't mean he will be in his own flat."

"Maybe not. But things are different between you. Even I can see that. You're closer than you were before…the fall."

John had still problems to talk about it. Losing Sherlock was one of the toughest things he had to go through.

"We're not close enough to live together, John. This will be…it will be too hard. Always being around him, no way to escape…He will break me, John."

They looked at each other for a few seconds, then John let go of Molly's shoulders. She could literally see how his hope died.

"That's what Mary said."  
"She knows about your crazy plan?"

"Yeah. She told me not to suggest it. She's a pretty clever woman."

Molly laughed.

"Yes. You're a very lucky man."

He smirked at her.

"I'm sorry, Molly. Somehow I thought this would be good idea."

"It's okay. I'm sorry, too. But Sherlock will get through this. We've been there when he needed us and we always will be."

John smiled sadly as he turned to leave.

"Not all of us. We have doubted him…even I did for a second. But you never did, did you?"

Molly's heart was beating faster. He had never said anything about her role in the fall. He had never talked to her about it at all, not even about the fact that she had lied to him for almost three years.

"No, I didn't."

Her voice was shaky and she felt tears swelling up in her eyes. It was hard for her to talk to him about it, too.

John, holding the open door in his hand, nodded his goodbye. Then he was gone and Molly let herself fall into the chair. She sighed again and rested her head on the backrest.

Oh boy. And she had thought filing would be the worst thing she had to do today…


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wow! I never thought that the first, rather short chapter would get so much lovely feedback. Thank you guys so much! A shoutout to all the followers and a big hug to all the people who were kind enough to review: magicstrikes (don't worry, we will come to that. Hope you will be statisfied :)), daisherz365 (here you have some), Rocking the Readhead (I so hope it will!^^), Sherloky (is this soon enough?), Nocturnias (oh my gosh, I'm still in shock that you read this! Love you!^^), travellady77 (danke dir, hoffe es gefällt dir auch weiterhin!:)), Aga (yeah, I hope I can keep them - Sherlock most of all - in character. Well, we'll see. Trying my best. By the way. How is the weather in Poland? :)). Oookay, all done now. Hope you like the second chapter. On we go!

* * *

Still disappointed by his declined suggestion, John entered 221b Baker Street. He climbed the stairs, hung his jacket and carefully entered the living room, taking a look around. Everything seemed to be fine. None of his stuff was gone, neither was any of it spreaded throughout the room.

"So, you didn't unpack again?" John asked as he sat down in his comfy chair, looking at Sherlock who was lying on the couch, hands steepled under his chin.

"It was getting old", was Sherlock's only reply.

"Indeed it was", John answered, thinking of the six times the black haired man had unpacked his things. A few times he had put everything back where it had been, making John think he was a lunatic who had only imagined he had packed. Then there was that one time he had hung up his jumpers on several strings he had spreaded across the living room, claiming it was an experiment. John hadn't believed that for one bloody second.

"Does that mean you're fine with me moving out, then?"

"When was I not fine with it?" Sherlock asked innocently, eyes still closed.

John sighed.

"Sherlock, could you please cut it out for a minute and just tell me if you're gonna start hating me the second I step out of this flat for good?"

"Don't be ridiculous. We will see each other constantly. We work together…don't we?"

Sherlock had opened his eyes. He wasn't looking at John, but the insecurity in his voice told John that this was an important question to Sherlock.

"Of course we will. You need an assistant…don't you?"

Sherlock glanced at him, then he smirked.

"Of course I do."

John smiled. With that being clarified, the thick air that had hung in the flat for weeks now disappeared. It felt like a weight had been lifted off both of their shoulders. They wouldn't be living together, but they still would be a team.

"I need tea. With milk."

John shook his head, but he got up and put the kettle on, anyway.

When he returned, he placed the tray with the freshly brewed tea and the cups on the low coffee table.

"Are you able to pour it yourself or are those hands glued together?"

Sherlock just looked at him and John mumbled a short 'fine' before he filled his cup.

"Boy, I'm surely not gonna miss being your houseboy."

"You'll be Mary's houseboy", Sherlock shot back dryly.

"But there will be shagging. That's quite motivating."

Finally, Sherlock sat up and reached for his cup.

"So, if I had shagged you, you wouldn't have been nagging all the time?"

For a second, John gaped at him. Then he saw Sherlock's sly smile before he took a sip of tea.

"Definitely."

Both of them looked at each other, then they chuckled.

"You better don't tell Mary this. She's jealous enough as it is."

"Mary isn't the one who's jealous and you know that damned well."

Sherlock didn't reply to that and John sat down in his chair again, drinking some tea.

"You never told me what you think of her."

"She punched me."

"Aside from that, Sherlock", John said but couldn't help the little grin on his face. That had been an awesome moment and it had made him love his future wife even more.

"What does it matter what I think? I'm not the one marrying her."

"Really? I need to explain this to you?"

"It would be helpful", Sherlock replied with a challenging look, but John would be damned if he gave in. He knew exactly that Sherlock just wanted to hear that he was his best friend and needed his opinion. Of course he was, but that man was arrogant enough as it was.

"I'm still looking for a best man, but I don't want it to be someone who despises my bride for punching him in the face. So, if you should feel that way, I should probably ask Mike or Greg to take the job."

John smirked as he took another sip. He had played that quite nicely, he thought.

Sherlock blinked a few times, still holding his tea cup.

"Why would I want to be best man?"

"Because to the groom, he will be the second most important person in the wedding...The most important person is the bride, in case you don't know."

"I know that", he snapped.

They looked at each other for almost a minute before Sherlock placed his cup on the table.

"I'll do it", he replied tonelessly.

"So you like Mary?"

"She's not as intolerable as your former lovers."

John couldn't help but grin. This out of Sherlock's mouth was a huge compliment.

"I'm sure you will become friends sooner or later. She is a lot like you, actually."

Sherlock only snorted at that.

"You'll see", John said and for a while they sat there in silence, sipping their tea.

It was half an hour later and Sherlock was lying on the sofa again when John decided to tell him.

"Sherlock?"

"Hm?"

John had learned years ago that it was better to make sure that Sherlock wasn't in his mind palace before he started talking. He took a deep breath before he spilled the news.

"Mrs. Hudson is thinking about moving to Australia."

"I know."

John was quite taken aback.

"What? How?"

"Please", Sherlock just said and John fought the urge to roll his eyes.

While John was looking for the right words, Sherlock continued.

"I told her to go when you were out."

The blonde man gaped at his friend.

"Wow, uhm, I mean, good. That was very good. It wouldn't be fair to keep her here, you know?"

"Why would I keep her here? She's not my property."

John frowned. Sherlock spoke with an emotionless voice, like he didn't give a damn.

„Yeah, you're right. She's just a mother-figure to you, so why would you care if she moved half around the globe or not?"

Sherlock didn't say anything, just steepled the hands under his chin again.

When he still felt John's eyes on him, he sighed.

„John, even though neither you nor Mrs. Hudson are aware of it, I am in fact a grown man and capable of living on my own. I have done so before."

„Yeah, that's what Molly said."

Sherlock glanced over to him.

„Since when is Molly your shoulder to cry on? I thought this is what a fiancé is for. Mary won't be pleased to hear this."

John saw an evil smirk spread on his friend's face.

„Mary knows I have talked to Molly, you sod. No need to text her so she yells at me. And stop trying to get us jump at each other's throats, by the way. It almost never works."

„The few times it does makes it worth trying", Sherlock snickered.

John sighed and got up from his seat to carry the tray into the kitchen.

„The girls really were right. What was I thinking..."

„What was that?" Sherlock called out after him.

„Nothing."

John let some hot water run into the kettle when he felt a presence right behind him. He turned and jumped as he saw Sherlock's blue eyes glare down at him.

„Jesus Christ! Stop doing that! One of these days I really will have a heart attack!"

„What were you talking about 'the girls being right'? Why are you talking about me, anyway?"

„Yeah, why would we? With me and Mrs. Hudson moving out and you left with only the skull as your sole company, why on earth would we talk about you?" John snapped and continued to clean the kettle and the cups.

„Don't bei sarcastic with me."

John and Sherlock looked at each other.

„Make yourself useful and I'll tell you."

Reluctantly, Sherlock grabbed a dish towel and reached for a tea cup. John smirked. He would really miss their little quarrels. Of course there would be plenty of those with Mary, but they would be different.

„So?"

Sherlock shrieked him out of his thoughts.

„Well, I went to Molly today, even though Mary wanted to stop me – that woman is _always_ right, by the way, I really hate that – and asked her if she would consider to move in here...with you."

Sherlock halted in his movements for a second. Then he snorted.

„That really was a stupid thing to do. Mary was right this time. I don't want to live with a woman and certainly not with Molly Hooper."

„Well, then you're in good company. Neither does Molly."

Sherlock halted again, blinking a few times.

„What?"

John didn't hear the detective's irritation in his voice. Instead, he chuckled as he thought of Molly's reaction.  
„She was quite shocked by my suggestion. If there would be a window in her office, I think she might would have jumped right out of it. She kinda looked like a doe in the headlights."

John shook his head while Sherlock got very still.

"I really thought she would jump at the opportunity to move in with you. But she is right. This would be a disaster. You would drive her crazy."

"_I_ would drive _her_ crazy?"

"Oh, come one", was John's only comment as he dried his wet hands with another dish towel.

"Anyway", he continued as he left the kitchen and was on his way to his room, "it was a silly idea and I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm sure you will do fine on your own."

And with that, Sherlock was left alone, dish towel still in hands...fuming.

How dare she not want to live with him?!

She was all over him everytime he was in the lab, begging him with her eyes to make her do something for him. She adored him!

Why wouldn't she want to live with him?

This should be a dream come true for her!

So why wasn't it?


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hello everyone! Very sorry for the delay. Work is exhausting at the moment and when I come home my brain instantly switches to standbye mode. Anyway, please have chapter 3 and learn how Sherlock invites Molly to live with him...well, 'invite' might not be the right word...;)As always, I would appreciate feedback of any kind. I try to keep one chapter ahead of posting, let's see how long this will work. :) Okay, done with the talking now. Seriously. Except maybe...Yellow car! ;)

* * *

"Why don't you want to live with me?"

Molly shrieked when she heard that voice out of nowhere booming in her ear and the heart she had been holding in her hands slipped through her fingers and landed (after several unsuccesful attempts to catch it) with an ungraceful _splat_ on the cut open body on her table.

"Sherlock! For heaven's sake! Stop doing this!" Molly complained, trying to catch her breath. Her heart was beating painfully fast.  
With outmost care she picked up the heart, checked for any injuries and put it in the scale pan.

Not before she wrote down the weight did she turn around, put her bloody gloved hands on her hips (she forgot that they were bloody with all the adrenaline still pumping through her system) and glared at him.

"Don't sneak up on me while I'm working, Sherlock! In case you didn't know, this is important work and you musn't disturb me! If you can't understand that, I'll have to ban you from the morgue."

She was really mad at him. Molly took a lot from him, but she wouldn't allow him to hinder her work.

"You didn't answer my question", was Sherlock's only reply.

"What question?!" she asked in a high pitched, impatient voice.

"Why don't you want to live with me?"

_Oh, that..._

"Why did John tell you?"

"It slipped."

Molly shook her head, trying to hide her blushing cheeks.

"He really shouldn't have done that. It was...private."

"It was about me."

Molly remained silent and looked down, noticing the blood on her white lab coat.

"Oh, bugger!"

With an unnerved sigh she pulled off her gloves and threw them on the table. When she turned around, Sherlock was still there, towering over her.

"Excuse me..." she mumbled and rounded him so she could escape through the door and into her little office where she always kept another lab coat for emergencies like this. It wasn't the first time she managed to get blood on herself...

She shrugged off her coat and was just opening her locker when Sherlock entered without knocking.

Molly was only wearing a tightfitting, thin blue shirt and she really wasn't in the mood for Sherlock to comment on her proportions, so she hid behind the open locker door as she put on the lab coat.

"Will you answer my question or not?" Sherlock asked impatiently and Molly wondered if his voice really sounded mad or if it was just her imagination.

"I'd prefer not to."

Just as she pushed the arm through the second sleeve, the locker door was pushed close.

Sherlock was towering over her again, manoeuvering her against the wall with his mere presence.

His sharp blue eyes bore into hers and Molly's heart beat faster again.

"I would _not_ drive you crazy", Sherlock said, his head held high and his hands crossed behind his back, and Molly made a mental note to herself to hunt John down and throttle him until his face had the lovely blue color it deserved.

She was about to apologize when Sherlock added:

"_You_ would drive _me_ crazy."

"Excuse me?"

She really couldn't believe what she was hearing. She did everything for him. Sometimes she already knew what he was about to ask/say/_command_ before he actually did!

"All your nasty habits would drive me up the wall within days."

"What nasty habits?"

It might only be her imagination, but she could have sworn Sherlock came closer as he looked at her lips.

"You bite your lower lip when you are concentrating," - Sherlock made airquotes at the word 'concentrating' - "you play with your hair when you are reading and you hum 90's pop songs when you are lost in thought."

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do. Mostly _Take that_ and _Spice Girls_, which leads us to your poor taste in music."

Molly balled her hands into fists and pressed her lips together. She knew she musn't talk back to him. It would only make it worse.

"You leave your half drunken mugs of hot chocolat everywhere..."

"I do not!"

Sherlock just turned and looked at her desk. Four mugs were on it.

_Damn!_

He grinned evily at her clenching jaw.

"And you crack your knuckles almost constantly."

"I do no..."

Molly stopped when she looked at Sherlock's face. He was right, she really did that a lot.

"Fine, I give you the knuckles-thing. But this is nothing in comparison to shooting at a wall out of boredom, stealing your flatmates clothes to do experiments on them, to store body parts without proper wrapping in the fridge, to play the violin in the middle of the night, running around the flat only wrapped in a sheet and to repeatedly hack your flatmates laptop! Not to mention the hours you spent sitting or lying down with your hands steepled under your chin, staring into distance and ignoring whoever tries to speak to you."

When Sherlock only looked at her, Molly got even braver.

"That's right, John talks to me about these things."

_Right back at you, Dr. Watson!_

A second passed, then Sherlock waved it off.

"This isn't the reason you don't want to live with me."

"Ehm, yes it is."

"You're lying. What is the real reason, Molly Hooper?" he asked and leaned in closer.

"This is the real reason!"

Sherlock was really close now. His intense stare made her nervous. And now she could also feel his body heat.

_Great!_

"And what if I would stop doing all those things. Would you want to live with me then?"

Damn, he had manoeuvred her into a corner. What was she going to say? There was no way in hell she would admit her feelings for him. She had tried that one time at Christmas years ago and it had ended with her crying herself to sleep that night. He didn't return her feelings and he never would, so him knowing how she felt would most probably leave her with a burnt heart and a lot more shedded tears. They were friends and she knew she counted. This needed to be enough.

"Why are you even asking this? You just pointed out that I would drive you up the wall."

"You moving in would have its advantages. You would live closer to St. Bart's. You would be...available."

"I'm available enough as it is. If I would be more available, I would live here."

"You're flat is a dump."

"Hey."

"You know I'm right. The building hasn't been renovated since the fifties, your flat is not much bigger than John's room and it's 45 minutes away from work."

Molly sighed. She hated to admit it, but it was true. Sure, she had tried to make the best of it with decorating and using cheerful colors, but it barely covered the fact that her flat was indeed tiny.

"There is a reason why I live there, Sherlock. I can't afford to move closer."

"If you assist me, I'll pay some of your share of the rent."

"You already have an assistant. Remember that blonde guy with the jumpers you love to destroy?"

"Don't try to make jokes, Molly. John will be my assistant when we're on a case. _You_ will assist me when I'm at home."

"I already do that here."

"This is why you are the perfect choice."

"Are you even aware that my life doesn't solely consist of assisting you with experiments? I have things to do."

"Like what?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing would come out.

_Come on! Just name one thing! Work with me, brain!_

"Great. Now that we have settled that, I'll let Mrs. Hudson know you're moving in."

"I didn't say yes, Sherlock!"

But the tall pale man was already on his way out and turned at the door, positively annoyed. But Molly said it, anyway.

"There must be some rules."

Sherlock raised a questioning eyebrow.

"No shooting, no experiments on my stuff, no ignoring my existence..."

"I already agreed to that, didn't I?" he asked impatiently.

"My room will be off limits to you, as will be my laptop...and everything I own. You won't wake me in the middle of the night and most of all..." her cheeks blushed a little more, "no running around the flat naked!"

He just rolled his eyes at that.

"You want a pinkie swear or will my word be enough?"

"Just get out!" Molly snapped and turned around, so she was unable to see Sherlock's crooked smirk before he left.

Molly took a deep breath and turned around again after she heard the door close. Her eyes fell on her desk with the mugs. That's when it hit her.

"Oh my God! Did I just agree to live with Sherlock Holmes?!"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Sorry that it took so long! I had no real internet for two weeks, so updating wasn't possible. But now I'm back!  
Introducing Mary in this chapter. Physically, that's my headcannon for her. Well, 'nough said. Let's get started. :)

* * *

„I still think this is a disastrous idea", Mary said for the thousandth time as she was in Molly's new room – John's old room – currently sitting on the floor and unpacking her best friends books. Toby the cat had already been set free...and was currently hiding under the bed.

"I heard you before, Mary. I don't really know how it happened, but I made my peace with it", Molly lied. She was far from being peaceful. She was at the edge of panic. It felt really, really weird to look around this room with its freshly painted walls (she always liked lavender) and her furniture arranged in it, looking like it had meant to be here all along. Her father's old apothecary cabinet (she loved it so very much) fitted perfectly in the space her dark rosewood wardrobe left on the right wall, just as the high bookshelves on either side of the big window in the middle of the wall opposite to the door and her big bed. Molly still couldn't believe that she would be woken by sunlight in the future. Well, if the sun shone, of course.

This room would be perfect…if it wouldn't be in 221b Baker Street.

"I still don't understand how he made you agree to this. John told me you wouldn't live with him if hell froze over."

Molly sighed and placed the bedside lamp on the little table.

"I told you, I have no idea. One moment we were throwing words at each other's heads and the next moment I kind of agreed."

"I will kill him. This time, I will kill him. Or I'll kick him in the nuts. He doesn't want a family, anyway."

Molly couldn't help but laugh.

"You will do no such thing. I'm not a child, Mary. I can handle him."

"You didn't think so two months ago."

"Well, I hadn't seen the room then."

"Don't make jokes, Molly", Mary commented dryly and Molly wondered if she was even aware of how much she sounded like Sherlock sometimes. She looked nothing like him, though. Long, blond waves fell over her shoulder, covering most of her heart-shaped face at the moment, the pouty lips and her honey colored eyes. Molly thought she had never met a woman more beautiful, or more clever. Mary Morstan was almost as smart and observant as Sherlock, with the only difference that she actually understood society's rules and habits. Although Mary really liked to make snarky comments, she knew the place and time for them. Molly had realized the more comfortable Mary was with someone, the snarkier she got. Molly didn't mind. They weren't invidious like Sherlock's hurtful comments.

"You should really try to get along with him", Molly said, not for the first time.

"Why on earth would I want that? It's so much fun to annoy that cocky bastard."

"Because he is your fiancé's best friend and his best man, by the way. You don't want a pouty Sherlock at your wedding, do you?"

Mary snorted.

"I don't give a damn if he'll pout or roll around on the floor, screaming and kicking like the little brat he is. John is mine and if he can't accept this, he can go to hell."

Molly shook her head.

"This will be one great day. You better tell your bridesmaid to keep an eye on him. Have you asked Amy yet, by the way?"

Molly really tried hard to change the subject to lighten the air in her new pretty room.

"Asked her what?"

Mary just put the last books in the bottom of the shelf.

"To be your bridesmaid."

"Why would I want her to be my bridesmaid?"

"Ehm…because she's your sister?"

Mary snorted again.

"Yeah, and that's bad enough. I don't need her overly cheery, babbling nature buzzing around me on my wedding day."

Molly had met Mary's sister once. She was a lovely person.

"So who is it, then?"

Mary sighed, rested her arms on the now empty box, her silver engagement ring with the small diamond sparkling in the sunlight and looked up.

"Really now. Who could it be?"

Mary tipped her chin and looked up to the sky like she was thinking hard. Molly blushed.

"Oh."

"Exactly."

"That's…Well, I just assumed…I've never been a bridesmaid before. I don't really know what to do."

As she saw her friend being all flustered and shy, Mary got up and laid an arm around her shoulder. She was a head taller than her and slightly taller than John.

"You will do great. Just keep that pighead away from me and we'll be fine."

Molly giggled.

"I'll try my best. Even if I have to knock him over during the ceremony."

"That's the spirit! Wanna hug it out?"

Mary asked. Normally, she wasn't a person who shows her affection physically. Again, only when she feels very comfortable with someone.

"Okay", Molly laughed and the girls hugged.

"Thanks, Molly", Mary whispered. It was easier to say the words when she didn't have to look at her.

"No worries. Thanks for helping me move, even though you don't agree with all this."

Mary hugged her a little tighter, then she let go of her almost immediately and cleared her throat.

"I need a beer. All that emotion is creeping me out."

Molly chuckled.

"How on earth are you going to survive the wedding ceremony?"

"I'll hide a flask of whiskey in my dress. It's all planned out", Mary tipped her temple and winked at Molly, who shook her head, smiling.

"What about that beer, now?"

"In the fridge."

"Perfect. You want one?"

"I'm good, thanks. Handling emotion is quite easy for me."

Mary just stuck her tongue out before she walked out of the room. Molly went back to unpack her clothes when she remembered that there was something else in the fridge. Just as she was about to shout out to Mary, she heard her shriek and then swear.

Molly decided it would be better to pretend not to have heard any of this, but she should have known better.

"Are those butt-cheeks in your fridge?"

"Ehm…yes."

Mary took a deep breath.

"Do I even want to know?"

"It's for an experiment."

"It always is."

Molly really disapproved of that tone in Mary's voice.

"The Gluteus Maximus is the strongest muscle of the human body. Also, the bottom is a large fat depot, so we want to test…"

"We?"

Mary raised an eyebrow and Molly looked down quickly.

"I kind of have agreed to help him with his experiments."

Two months. Two months Molly had managed to keep that from Mary. Who could have known a beer and a butt-cheek would destroy her little secret?

Carefully, Molly looked up at Mary. Her jaw was clenched and the knuckles of her hand which was wrapped around the open beer bottle were white.

"Please put the beer down before you flip out. I don't want any stains on my new carpet."

She actually did.

_Oh, this is gonna be bad…_

"Why do you let him treat you like that all the time? Have you no self-respect?!"

Molly flinched. Mary had never been so harsh before.

"That man is using you for his convenience! He doesn't give a damn about how you feel! Now I finally understand why he tricked you into living with him in the first place. So you could be his servant."

"It's nothing like that."

"Oh, just open your eyes, Molly! That man is a conniving, cold and heartless robot who uses people for fun. He does that to you as well as to John and poor Mrs. Hudson."

"NO!"

Both women were quite shocked at Molly's outburst and looked at each other wide eyed for a second.

"You don't know him, Mary. You don't know what he did to save his friends, the people he loves."

"He almost broke John's heart! _I_ sewed him back together! He didn't save his friends, he crushed them! You remember how Mrs. Hudson looked, just a shadow of the lovely lady she is. And now there all happy because he's back and act like he had never done those things to them."

"He did it to save them!"

"I don't care why he did it! All I know is that – God knows why – he is holding your hearts in his hand, just waiting for the right moment to squash them again!"

"He would never do that!"

"Oh, yeah? How do you know?"

"Because it nearly killed him, too!"

The former screaming was replaced by dead silence. Mary blinked, face flushed just as Molly's.

"What?"

Molly bit down the tears in her eyes. Another secret of hers had slipped. But it was too late now to take it back.

"He came back to London three times, always on John's birthday. I don't think he even realized. He just wanted to make sure John was okay…and when he saw that he wasn't…"

Molly shook her head.

"You don't know how Sherlock was before the fall. How he looked. How is eyes were bright and sparkling…they never shine so brightly, now. And I think they never will. Doing this to John and the rest almost broke him, too. He loves them, Mary. He loves them dearly. And I won't let you say those horrible things about him. You just don't know."

The two women looked at each other for a few seconds, then Mary let out a breath.

"I'm sorry…"

Molly only nodded, trying to get that image of a pale and tired Sherlock in her old flat out of her head.

"I should go."

"Mary?"

Molly stopped her at the door. The blonde woman turned her head, hesitantly meeting her eyes.

"Please don't tell John."

Mary nodded. "I won't."

"Thank you."

Molly smiled, but Mary had already turned around and left.

Letting out an exhausted sigh, Molly let herself fall on her bed as soon as she heard the door close downstairs.

Well, that surely didn't went as planned. Good thing John and Sherlock were busy on a case. She didn't even want to imagine how things would have gone if they had heard all of this…

_Welcome to 221b Baker Street, Molly!_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Because of my long absence have the fifth chapter already. Hope I'm on your good side again? :)

* * *

Sherlock stepped into his flat late that evening (no, it wasn't just his anymore. The few weeks he had lived alone were over. Molly had moved in today, he reminded himself) and was momentarily taken aback by the smell that was coming from the kitchen. The hood was trying desperately to suck up all of it but failed miserably (Sherlock hadn't known that this thing was still working. Hadn't John unplugged it some years ago?). As Sherlock stood in the passage, he watched Molly standing at the stove, stirring in a pot. While his mouth watered from the lovely smell, he let his eyes wander over her open hair (not very hygienic whilst cooking), her tight fitting dark green cotton dress and the black leggings. She wore a pair of those ridiculous fluffy frog slippers which were supposed to be funny. Sherlock had never understood what was funny about wearing some animal's heads on their feet.

The detective's lips twitched as Molly started to hum a tune that he didn't know, most probably another pop song.

"I see you made yourself comfortable."

Molly flinched before she turned around and greeted him with a smile.

"Yes. Everything unpacked. Would you like some dinner?"

_Yes_, screamed his stomach and Sherlock had to swallow the saliva that was filling his mouth. Still in his coat, Sherlock strolled over to the stove and looked over Molly's shoulder into the pot, a whiff of her scent mixing with the cooking smell.

"It's just some Pasta with Carbonara sauce. My mother's favorite. We had to eat tons of it when we were little. Me and my brothers were so fed up with it we thought we'd never eat it again, but ever since we went to uni, we all cook it at least once a week."

Sherlock hardly listened to Molly's babbling, instead he listed up the ingredients: Fettuccine pasta, bacon, cheese, eggs, peas and chopped parsley. Very simple but smelling delicious.

"Is it ready?" he asked and cut of Molly.

"Yep. You're right on time. Take a seat."

Sherlock threw her a quick glance and noticed her blushed cheeks. Now he realized he had leaned in too close. Molly didn't deal well with him being so close to her. He didn't know why she still blushed after all those years. It wasn't the first time they had been that close, Sherlock mused while he walked back into the hallway to hang up his coat. He wore a black suit combined with a deep red shirt. The flat was warmer than usual, so Sherlock shrugged off the suit jacket as well.

"Did you turn up the heat?"

"Just a tad. Do you mind? I get cold easily."

"You don't seem to have that problem at the morgue", he commented as he sat down and watched Molly move around the kitchen. In the three years he was gone, Molly had visited 221b frequently to keep John company. That's when they became real friends and as he was told, Molly and John spent many evenings cooking together. Well, that was before John met Mary.

When the plate with the pasta was set in front of him, he heard his stomach growl loudly. His eyes shot up to Molly just in time to see her little smile before she turned to get two forks and spoons and put them on the table before she sat down.

"Bon Appetit", she said with a smile and started eating.

Sherlock only nodded before he did the same.

They ate in silence for a few minutes until Sherlock felt Molly's eyes on him.

_Oh, right. Social habits._

"It's good", he said and looked at her only for a moment.

"Thanks."

Some more silence.

"Do you still need some help with your things?"

Molly couldn't help but grin.

"Are you seriously offering to help?"

"No. But I could call John."

Molly laughed, which caused Sherlock to grin.

"You're really not finished teasing him, are you? Leave him alone at least for a week, Sherlock. I am sure Mary and him want to…celebrate."

Molly blushed again.

_Ah, she is talking about sex._

"Celebrate what?"

"That they finally live together. That they are starting a life together. That they get married. Take your pick."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and continued to eat.

"I really am happy for them. They will be a family. I bet they will have children soon."

"I don't like children."

"Wow, that's a surprise", Molly teased him and smiled when he shot her a look.

"But you will like John's children."

"Why are we even talking about that? They're not even married yet and who knows if this is really going to happen."

Molly froze and then pointed a finger at him.

"What is that supposed to mean? Sherlock…are you planning to sabotage the wedding? Sherlock?!"

She glared at him. Sherlock was surprised. She had never glared at him before.

_Interesting…_

"Why would I do that? John would never forgive me."

"No, he wouldn't."

They looked at each other, then Molly finally relaxed.

"Good. Please try to get on Mary's good side, Sherlock. It would mean so much to John. And to me."

"That person is a stubborn," – Molly interfered by saying "Like you…" – "impudent…" – "like you" - "…and violent woman!" – "You once threw a man out of that window over there."

Sherlock glared at Molly, who gave him a smug smile.

"Why does everyone keep saying that I'm like that…"

"You want to start again?"

Sherlock's jaw clenched. "...like Mary Morstan. I assure you, I'm not."

"How would you know? In all that 18 months you know her you have barely spoken to each other. You're both so full of prejudices and jealousy that you don't see the real person underneath."

Sherlock let his fork fall on his plate and put both of his hands on the table.

"I am _not_ jealous."

"Is something a jealous person would say."

The little vein on Sherlock's throat started pulsating. Molly grinned and rose from her seat.

"I'm just teasing you, Sherlock. I'm just saying that it would be nice if you two would finally get along. You know she is my friend and will probably be around more often."

"Why? She wasn't around when John still lived here. If you want to see her, you can go to her flat."

Molly put the two empty dishes into the sink before she turned around and put a hand on her hip.

"Are you forbidding me to invite her over?"

Sherlock wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood up.

"Yes."

They looked at each other. Molly couldn't believe what she was hearing. She maybe wasn't a fighter in general, but she fought for the things that were important to her. And Mary was definitely worth fighting for.

"Then I won't help you with your experiments."

Sherlock's eyebrows twitched in surprise before he put his mask back on.

"Then I won't pay the share of your rent."

"Fine. I don't want your stupid money, anyway. I'd rather dance half naked in bars."

Sherlock grinned.

"Like you would get paid for that epileptic seizure that you call dancing."

Molly's face turned red.

_Why does he always have to insult my body? Why?_

This is exactly the kind of situation Molly had dreaded. And there it was. On the first, bloody day. There was nowhere to run except to her room.

So she stormed past him and bolted up the stairs, slammed the door shut and crushed down on her bed, burying her head in her pillow.

_Curse you, Sherlock Holmes! Curse you, John Watson, for being the whole reason for this mess! And curse you, Mary, for being right!_

_~ooo~_

Sherlock was left downstairs, looking at the mess. He had intended to do his experiments tonight. He needed his kitchen clean for this. Sherlock put his hands on his lean waist. How could he make the dirty dishes, pots and silverware go away?

With an unnerved sigh he started to pile all these things up in the sink, let some water run over it and sprayed some of the washing-up liquid in the milky pool. With a wrinkled nose he looked at the disgustingly dirty water. There was no way in hell he would put a hand in this.

Molly had to clean it up. Definitely. He had to get on her good side again. Sherlock looked around. _There must be some clues... _

_~ooo~_

Molly was lying on her back, hands behind her head, just staring at the ceiling and trying not to think of the handsome but insulting detective when the door right from her opened a crack, then halted and shut again. A knock was heard and Molly couldn't help but smile.

_At least he tries. _

"Come in, Sherlock."

The door opened fully this time and the aforementioned handsome man with the black curly hair entered. She watched how he looked around, analyzing every little thing she owned. That was one of the things she feared and loved most about him.

"Ms. Morstan was here. And you had an argument."

Molly sighed.

"Yes. How do you know?"

"Well, taking in consideration the speed you work with when you're in the morgue it's impossible that you unpacked everything by yourself. And even if you hurried, you would never sort your books wrong. And there are about seven missorted books on the shelve. Furthermore, there is a..." he wrapped his long, slender fingers around the beer bottle which was still standing on her nightstand, "...warm bottle of beer on your bedside table which proves two points: There was another person here, because you only drink alcohol in company, and the fact that the bottle is warm and full indicates that the person has left in a hurry. To finish things up, given your Facebook-status, you and Mary are 'best gal-pals', so she would be your first choice executing this rather intimate task."

"Of course she would be", Molly said with a smile and leaned back into her pillows. Sherlock took that as permission to stroll through her room and started to put her books in the right order.

"I take the quarrel was about me", he said casually, his back turned to her.

Molly sighed while she watched him, watched how the folds in his shirt threw little shadows on his back in the light of her bedside lamp. He had lost weight again. But she wasn't surprised. Although he might seem to be fine with all of this, she knew very well that losing John as a flatmate pained him.

"Of course it was."

"What did she say?"

"I really don't want to talk about this, Sherlock. Mary didn't know better. She doesn't know you and she doesn't know how it is between us."

When Sherlock halted in his movements, Molly teared her eyes off of his deliciously looking butt and realized what she had just said. Her heart beat faster and she felt a blush creep up her cheeks.

"How are things between us?" Sherlock asked and continued with his task.

Molly looked up at the ceiling as that one night came into her mind.

"I count", she half-whispered and closed her eyes for only a second as she remembered the sound of his voice when he had said those words to her.

"She doesn't believe you do, does she?" Sherlock asked after he had cleared his throat. With a hand in his pocket he turned around and they looked at each other.

"No, she doesn't. She thinks you're only using me as a lab assistant."

Molly noticed how Sherlocks jaw clenched.

"And is that your opinion, too?"

"Yes."

Sherlock's eyes widened a bit and Molly smiled.

"You are using me...but as a friend. A very rude, insulting and impudent friend."

Her smile relaxed him a little and he gave her that crooked smile she loved so much.

"I see we are on the same page, then. Now, go down and clean up the kitchen. I want to start testing."

"I cooked. Can't you at least clean up? Flatmates normally share the work."

Sherlock snorted and walked over to her bed.

"Like you seriously expected it to be that way. Don't forget who you are living with, Molly."

To her surprise, he held out a hand to her. It was an innocent gesture with an impatient look, but it made her heart jump nonetheless.

"You'll make sure I won't", was her only reply before she took his hand and let him pull her up to a stand. He grinned down at her again.

For a second they just stood there, he looking down, she looking up, holding hands, only illuminated by the small light of the lamp.

"Welcome to 221b Baker Street, Molly Hooper."

His voice was soft, as was his hand wrapped around hers. Molly couldn't help but think that if this had happened five years ago, she might have pounced at him. But things had changed with the fall and the time they had spent apart. They had changed. Molly wasn't as nervous around him anymore. He wasn't that superhuman genius to her anymore. She had seen him in his greatest hour of need and she had realized that he was, after all, human, vulnerable and scared. Just as everybody else...

"Thanks. But that won't make me clean the dishes faster. And you will help."

She took her hand out of his and picked up the beer on her way out of her room.

"I will not. You're the woman. This is your task."

Molly snorted.

"Welcome to the 21st century, Mr. Holmes. I have some news for you: Women are equal now, means if you want your kitchen clean, you have to help."

Now it was Sherlock's turn to snort.

After some more debating, the new flatmates agreed that Sherlock would wipe the table while Molly did everything else. It was her first day, after all, and standing up to a man you are secretly in love with really isn't that easy.

Still, Molly was quite happy with the first day when she contemplated in bed that night.

_It wasn't the best start, but it surely could have been worse. Maybe this won't be so difficult, after all. We will find a way...Now I just have to fall asleep, knowing that dead-gorgeous man is just a flight of stairs away, in a room just beneath mine, lying in his bed, and from what John had told her, bare naked..._

_..._

_..._

_..._

_Crap!_


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: And on we go! Thanks fo all the lovely response I get for this little fic. It really makes my day. By the way, if you have some ideas, don't be shy to let me know. Help is always appreciated, as is criticism, if it's done respectfully. :)Hope you like the new chapter. It's getting a little fluffly. Let me know what you think.

* * *

Three days later, Molly found herself food shopping with Mrs. Hudson.

"How is it going with you two, dear?" the lovely elderly woman asked while they were picking out some fruits.

"Not so bad", Molly replied while she put some apples in a plastic bag.

She felt Mrs. Hudson's eyes on her and tried very hard to ignore it.

"You...haven't been down to the living room much", she said after Molly wouldn't look up.

The pathologist cleared her throat and reached for the bananas.

"Yeah, well...I had a lot of things to do. You know, decorating and...uhm..."

Mrs. Hudson stopped Molly from filling her shopping trolley with bananas by putting her hand on her arm.

"Dear, you can't hide from him for the rest of your life."

"I'm not hiding. I'm just...staying out of his way. He's on a new case and needs to focus."

Mrs. Hudson sighed.

"Molly, this is your flat too, now. You have just as much right to be there as him. Hiding in your room..."

"I'm not hiding!"

Molly was silenced by Mrs. Hudson's look.

"...Hiding in your room only makes him think that this is how it's supposed to be. You have to take a stand and claim the flat as your own...mark your territory."

Molly's head snapped up and she looked at her, almost shocked. Then she saw Mrs. Hudson smug grin and the women shared a giggle.

"Not literally, dear."

Molly shook her head to get the picture out of her head and finally noticed that half her trolly was filled with bananas, so she made an attempt to put some of them back when a woman passed her by and gave her an odd look, so she shyly smiled at the stranger and left the fruits where they were.

"Mrs. Hudson, thanks for caring, but I can deal with this. We just need to get used to one another, that's all."

"Well, he can't really get used to you when you're not around."

Molly sighed and was thanking God that Mrs. Hudson obviously didn't know that Molly had showered in the hospital the last three days...and also went to the loo there, actually. Oh, she had tried to sit down on the same toilet Sherlock did, but...she just couldn't. The mere thought made her close up...so to speak.

_Oh boy. Maybe I really should give up making jokes..._

They finally moved on from the fruits and strolled through the rows, putting things into their trolleys until Mrs. Hudson felt the need to ask another question.

"Have you and Mary made up yet?"

"Is this the aisle to hell?" Molly asked with another sigh and Mrs. Hudson chuckled.

"I'm just worried, dearest."

"Again, no need to."

Of course Mrs. Hudson wouldn't let it go.

_Boy, that woman really has that motherly looking-in-to-your-soul-stare working..._

"I haven't heard from her yet."

"Maybe you should call her. You know she's not good with sharing her emotions."

Another sigh from the pathologist.

"I know...Friday is movie night. We never missed it in almost three years...I probably should buy some corn...and some wodka."

"Wodka?"

"I'm going to make cocktails...with banana juice."

Molly pointed to the big pile of southern fruit in her trolley and the women shared another laugh.

"Would you like to come? We're going to watch 'Gone with the wind'."

"That doesn't sound like a movie Mary would pick."

"We take turns at picking a movie and this is my revenge for making me watch 'Snakes on a plane', the most ridiculous movie ever!"

"_This_ sounds like a movie she would pick."

Molly smiled.

"So, are you coming?"

"Sure. You can never do wrong with looking at Clark Gable for four hours."

"No, you can't."

For the rest of their shopping Molly and Mrs. Hudson - _it's Martha, dear_ - were gushing over famous actors from the 40's to the 70's.

~oOo~

Two giggling ladies climbed the stairs to 221b Baker Street, carrying two bags of food each.

"I still can't believe that you met Gregory Peck."

"Oh, you better. I can show you the signed bra if you want to."

"No, no, no, no. I totally believe you."

"Ah, there you are."

Sherlock stood at the door to the living room, glancing down at the women.

"I thought you had moved out."

Molly couldn't help but blush a little as she went into the kitchen, not meeting his eyes.

"No, I still live here. I just have given you some space for your case."

Sherlock took the bags out of Mrs. Hudson's hands and carried them to the kitchen.

"What is all this?"

"It's called food. You might recognize some of it."

"Don't make jokes, Molly. Did you bring milk? There is no milk in the fridge."

"Yes, that's why I went out for shopping, Sherlock."

"What are all the bananas for? I don't like bananas."

"But I like them."

Sherlock only shook his head before he went to Molly and stood behind her, peaking in the bags she was unpacking. His masculine scent and his body heat wrapped around her and Molly's heart beat faster as his arm brushed her shoulder when he reached into the bag to retrieve the milk.

They moved around the kitchen, Molly putting the food away and Sherlock making tea.

"Look at you two", Mrs. Hudson suddenly said, standing in the doorway and leaning against the frame, playing with her pearl necklace and smiling.

Before Molly could say anything, Sherlock rolled his eyes and poured himself some tea.

"Mrs. Hudson, there is no necessity what so ever to keep an eye on Molly and me. We are both adults and Molly chose to live with me willingly..."

Molly threw him a glance from the frigde.

"...She knows my habits and what I expect of her. As long as she lives up to my requirements, there will be no problems."

"That's what I was talking about, dear", Mrs. Hudson said to Molly and Sherlock narrowed his eyes and looked at Molly who just passed him by to store the rest of the things away. She almost duck under his look and hurried to the cupboard.

"You were talking about me again?"

"She was", Molly defended herself as Sherlock neared her.

"Leave that girl alone, Sherlock. You promised to behave!"

Sherlock whirled around and threw his hand in the air.

"Ugh, I said it a million times before: I'm not going to break Molly!"

"Break me?"

Molly asked and looked from Sherlock to Martha.

"Perfect, now you've upset her. She doesn't cook me dinner if she's upset. Get out, Mrs. Hudson", Sherlock turned his landlady around and guided her to the stairs.

"No need to push me, Sherlock."

"Goodbye."

"Be nice!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes again before he walked back into his kitchen.

"So they talked to you, too, about what a big mistake that is?"

"Of course they have", Sherlock waved it off. "What's for dinner?"

He sat down at the kitchen table and looked through his microscope.

"You have finished your case, then?"

"It was hardly a seven."

Molly smiled.

"I thought about home-made pizza."

"It's a lot faster if you just order one."

"It is, but it doesn't taste as good and it isn't fun."

Sherlock looked up from his probes.

"How can making pizza be fun? You just throw things on the dough."

"That _is_ the fun part. Especially if we both do it."

Sherlock snorted.

"No."

"Okay. I just put some banana slices on your half, then."

He gazed up from his microscope from time to time to watch her making the dough. It was distracting, but not in an unpleasent way. He liked having someone buzzing around him while he did his experiments. It helped him to focus, somehow.  
When it was time to put the toppings on the prepared dough with self-made tomato sauce and cheese on it, Molly turned around again.

"It's your last chance to choose the toppings yourself, Sherlock."

He ignored her and Molly's jaw clenched. She grabbed a banana, removed the skin and started to slice it when she suddenly felt a presence behind her. His scent filled her nostrils and his body heat warmed her back, but she refused to turn around.

"You're not going to put banana on my half", he said and his voice vibrated to her body.

Molly's heart beat faster.

"I am making the pizza all by myself, so I can do whatever the heck I want."

"Molly..." he warned her when she grabbed some banana slices and moved her hand over the dough when it suddenly got caught by his hand. She let out a little breath as she looked at his slender fingers around her little wrist, giving her goosebumps.

"You will ruin the whole pizza only to force me to do something I don't want to do?"

Gosh, he was so damn close. She felt his breath in her neck and his baritone did things to her...

No, she must focus. She knew that he was only flirting to make her give in. Like Martha had said, she needed to be strong and confident.

"No, I'm doing this to show you that I am not your servant and that if you want food in a certain way, you have to help."

Now she turned her head around, only to find his amazing blue-green orbs fixed on her. Her heart did a little jump.

They looked at each other for what felt minutes, with him standing so close behind her, his hand still around her wrist, her eyes wandering from hers to her lips and back again.

Molly's cheeks reddened, but she couldn't tear her eyes off of him. The way he looked at her made her skin tingle with anticipation and excitement. This always happened when they were close. For a moment, time seemed to slow down just for them and she felt so drawn to him that she couldn't resist to lean just a little closer...

"I packed your tuna by mistake, dear...oh."

Sherlock and Molly almost jumped away from each other and the banana slices in Molly's hand flew through the room and onto the floor. Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock and Molly watched them fly and land with a nice _splat_. Then Mrs. Hudson looked from Sherlock to Molly, who were looking everywhere but at each other.

"Oh, thank you. Perfect timing. I was just going to put the toppings on the pizza."

Molly hurried over to the eldery woman who looked at her flushed face curiously while she handed her the can of tuna.

"You weren't going to put the banana slices on it, were you?"

"No, of course not", Molly laughed a little to loud and put the can on the counter before she started to pick up the slices from the floor.

Sherlock watched her, hands in his pockets, when he felt Mrs. Hudson's eyes on her.

"Is there anything else you need, Mrs. Hudson?"

A smile lit up the landlady's face that was way too broad in Sherlock's opinion.

"No, no, that's all. Have a lovely evening, you two."

Sherlock only glared at her while Molly muttered a goodbye.

When Mrs. Hudson was gone, they stood awkwardly in the kitchen, not really knowing what to say.

Molly was the first to snap out of it after some time and cleared her throat.

"Do you want tuna on your half?"

She opened the can and let the water run into the sink.

"Thanks", came his reply before he disappeared into his room, leaving a flushed Molly behind to look after him, not knowing what to think about this incident...


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Next chapter ready. I thought we needed something to get to know Mary better...or better said, my version of her. :) Thanks for all the lovely reviews for chapter 6: jenefaner (thanks for pointing that 'gonna'-thing out. I corrected it. You're right, he would never say this.^^), IggyInin20218, Can'tTakeTheSky, 221silentwordsnotspoken, ChildoftheTARDIS, Renaissancebooklover108 (you taught me 'potassium'. Thanks:)) and louvreangel.

By the way, this year's SAMFA's are coming up, starting on May 13th, hosted by the amazing Nocturnias at sherlolly dot com. Please visit the site for more information about the sherlolly-fic-contest, rules, etc.  
I'm gonna be a judge this year and I can't wait to read all your nominations! :)

* * *

"Hey", Mary greeted Molly as she stepped through the door on that Friday evening.

"Hi", Molly smiled and after an unsure moment Molly opened her arms and Mary smiled, obviously relieved and hugged her tightly.

"And you're not mad at me anymore?" Mary asked.

"Of course not."

"Great. So, what are we watching?"

Both of the girls walked up the stairs to the flat, Mrs. Hudson already sitting in the living room with Toby on her lap, the cat happily purring and leaning its head against her fingers to be scratched under its chin.

Mary waved hello to the eldery woman and put her sixpack on the table.

"Gone with the wind."

Mary froze.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Molly grinned.

"Nope."

"Snakes on a plane wasn't _that_ bad."

"Gone with the wind is a classic...and it _was_ that bad."

Mary crushed down on the couch next to Mrs. Hudson who patted her knee sympathetically.

"It really wasn't that bad", Mary said to her and scratched Toby behind his ear.

"Hey, fatty. Feeling at home, don't you?"

"Don't call him 'fatty'", Molly shouted from the kitchen and carried over the popcorn and the banana juice she made earlier.

"What's this?"

"Banana juice. For cocktails."

"I don't like bananas."

Molly and Mrs. Hudson exchanged a look and a grin.

"What?"

"Nothing. I get you a glass for your beer, then."

"Thanks."

Two and a half hours later, the three women were in the middle of the classic movie.

"I don't know what he sees in her. She's a spoiled child and egoistic as hell. And while we're at it, what about that Ashley-guy? He's such a wimp. Except for Melanie there is not a single likeable character...except for Belle, maybe."

"I won't tolerate you talking bad about Rhett Butler, Mary."

"So you're into bad guys, aren't you?" Mary asked Mrs. Hudson cheekily.

"He isn't bad. He's a rebell and a free spirit. And yes, I find these qualities attractive in a man", she added and took another sip of her banana-vodka-cocktail.

Mary giggled.

"Did you write your names in your schoolbook and drew a heart around it?" she mocked her.

"That's none of your business."

The women laughed.

"Don't you tell me that you didn't do that in school", Molly said.

"Egh, I never did anything that ridiculous. While the others had a crush on George Michael, David Hasselhoff and Michael Jackson I was helping my dad to fix the lawn-mower."

"Are you seriously telling me that you never fancied a band or an actor?"

"Yes."

"You lie."

"I do not! The only reason I had a poster of 'Knight Rider' on my wall was the car, not that Hasselhoff-guy."

"Yeah, right. And guys watched 'Baywatch' because of the good plotlines, not because of the hot women in red swimsuits."

"Oh, shut up", Mary snapped and reached for the popcorn.

Mrs. Hudson questioned her further.

"Tell me, dear, how many men did you have before John?"

"Martha!" Molly and Mary shouted simultaneously and the older woman giggled.

"Oh, don't be such prudes. It's just as girls."

"Well, then, how many men did you have?" Mary asked provocatively.

Mrs. Hudson only laughed.

"Oh, I had my share of men. I was young and beautiful once and believe me, I enjoyed it."

"You still are beautiful", Molly said while Mary only gaped at her.

"You minx", Mary said with a sly smile and Mrs. Hudson winked at her before she sipped at her cocktail again.

"Do you have any tips for my wedding night?" Mary asked and before Mrs. Hudson could answer, Molly shot up from her seat.

"Okay, no more cocktails for you two. Come Toby, time for dinner."

As if the cat understood, it jumped from Molly's lab and hurried into the kitchen.

"I had no idea you were so prudish, Molly", Mary mocked her.

"It's really a shame. She's such a beautiful girl, she could have any man she wanted."

"Absolutely."

Molly only sighed while she poured the cat food into the bowl and placed it on the ground. She gently patted Toby, who was already eating before she returned to the living room.

"Would you like some real food? I made Lasagna."

"Don't try to change the subject, Molly."

"Yes, dear. You really should make a move on Sherlock", Mrs. Hudson added and Mary snorted.

"Oh please, like he has a clue what to do with a woman, especially with such a lovely one. She could do so much better. What about that doctor? Mark, was it?"

Molly reached for her cocktail and took a big gulp.

"We went out once, but I didn't really feel something."

"Yes, because you're totally fixated on a certain consulting detective who doesn't give a rat's ass about feelings."

Molly sighed.  
"Could we please not talk about that?"

"Oh, but you two would make a lovely couple", Mrs. Hudson jumped in.

"Well, maybe, but like Mary said, Sherlock isn't interested in having a girlfriend."

"Because he has no idea what he is missing", Mrs. Hudson pointed out.

"Don't talk her into this, Martha. This can only end in tears...her tears."

"Please, ladies. Let's just watch the movie."

And for a while, they did.

"I'm so booooored!" Mary cried out after another hour. "It does never end, does it?"

Molly laughed.

"It's just another half-hour. You'll survive it."

"I need another beer."

"All out, sorry."

"What? I won't get through this without alcohol! Give me the vodka."

And she reached for the half empty bottle.

"Don't you think you had enough?"

"Molly, I am an electrician. Believe me, I have a very high alcohol tolerance."

"And I thought it is just a prejudice that all craftsmen drink."

"I'm afraid it's true for our shop. During training I had more than one alcohol-caused headache...But please consider us for your next electrical problem", Mary winked and nipped at the vodka.

Mrs. Hudson only shook her head, then she turned her head back to the TV.

"Oh no, here we go."

"I know."

"What?" Mary only asked and looked at the TV, the little Butler-daughter sitting on a horse.

"Oh no. Please tell me it's not gonna happen."

Mary fell very silent during the next scenes, watching the little girl die and Rhett Butler grieving for his daughter. Molly even thought she saw tears in her eyes.

"I hate that movie", was her only comment before she took a huge gulp out of the vodka bottle.

John Watson chose exactly that moment to enter the flat.

"John! Oh, thank God. You have to save me from this horror!"

Mary jumped up and went over to her smiling fiancé.

"Hello", he greeted her before she kissed him and pressed him tightly against her. She was always worried when he was out with Sherlock on a case, but of course she would never admit it.

When John hissed and flinched as she held him tight, Mary instantly let go.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing...um...I just got shot at."

"WHAT?"

Mary's eyes widened in panic.

"We have to go to the hospital immediately. Just let me get my keys. What are you even doing here? Oh, honey..." first she wanted to get the keys, then she thought otherwise and showered his face with kisses.

"Ma...Mary, calm down. I'm fine. It's only been a grazing shot."

"Where? Show me!"

Carefully, John opened his jacket. Mary sucked in some air as she saw the bloody shirt.

"Molly!" she called out and shrugged off John's jacket a little too hastily and John winced in pain.

"So sorry, honey", Mary hurried to say and kissed him again.

"Molly!"

"I am here, Mary. Everything's fine. Just get him into the kitchen while I get the first aid kit from the bathroom."

"Yes, yes, okay. Come, let me help you, honey."

John rolled his eyes.

"Mary, I'm not dying. I can very well walk."

But his wife-to-be didn't listen to him and took his arm to guide him to the kitchen table and hastily made space for him to sit on.

Molly watched this with a mixture of worry and amusement.

"Gone is the cool, tough woman", Mrs. Hudson said next to her and Molly had to suppress a giggle.

"Yep. Listen, I need you to keep Sherlock away. Mary will kill him in this state."

"Yes, you're probably right", Mrs. Hudson agreed after another look at Mary who was opening John's shirt with shaky fingers.

The women nodded at each other and the landlady hurried down the stairs while Molly went into the bathroom to get the first aid kit.

"Mary, it looks worse than it is. I'm not gonna die."

John tried to calm his girlfriend but couldn't help another hiss when she carefully shrugged off the red plaid shirt.

"I'm so sorry, John. I don't know what to do..."

"Hey", John said softly, cupped her cheek and made her look at him.

"I'm fine. Do you hear me?"

Mary nodded, her lip trembling.

"Good. If you want to help, calm down...and kiss some of the pain away."

Mary laughed, John's words finally sinking in. A tear fell from her eyes before she kissed him tenderly.

"I love you", she whispered against his lips.

"I love you, too, you wimp."

Mary laughed again and let her hands wander into his hair before they kissed again, this time deep and more passionate.

"Ahem!"

John broke the kiss and grinned at Molly.

"Can I please sew you up before you jump at each other?"

"Sorry", he said, his broad smile stating that he was not sorry at all.

Molly only shook her head and walked over to them, putting the kit on the table.

"Get me some water and a clean towel, Mary."

"Yes, of course."

With something useful to do, Mary calmed down and watched in awe as Molly carefully cleaned the wound and easily sewed it, not in a hurry at all.

"Thanks, Molly. That are some fine stitches."

"No worries. It's actually quite fun to sew up a living person for once."

Mary and John only looked at her.

"Don't make jokes, Molly", came a dark voice from the door and Mary shot up from the chair.

"You!"

She wanted to lunge at Sherlock, but John and Molly held her back. Sherlock rose an eyebrow at the angry woman.

"You let someone shoot my fiancé?" she asked in a shrill voice and tried to free herself.

"Mary, calm down", John said and hissed once again as Mary tried to rip her arm out of his grip. She instantly calmed down.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, honey."

She carefully placed her arms around him and kissed him again.

"You have a serious anger management problem. I suggest you see a psychiatrist about it."

"_You_ are my problem, Mr. Holmes", Mary growled through gritted teeth.

"Do you have a spare shirt I can borrow, Sherlock?" John asked and tried to change the subject.

"No."

"Oh, come on. You have one million of them in your closet."

"If I had a million shirts, they would hardly fit in my room, let alone my closet."

Mary walked over to Sherlock, put her hands on her hips and looked up to him.

"You will give John a shirt, or I will rip this one right off your body."

"This is exactly the reason why I forbade Molly to invite you."

They glared at each other and Molly wouldn't have been surprised if little sparks of electricity had flown between them, like in a cartoon.

"Be nice, kids", John said and the pathologist hurried to stand between them.

"There's no need to snap at each other. John is not badly injured and Sherlock will be happy to give him a shirt."

The man in question opened his mouth to protest, but one look from Molly made him shut it again.

"Fine", he said through gritted teeth after he looked at Molly for a second and disappeared into his room.

"Mary, why don't you call a cab?"

The blonde woman's body was still tense with anger and her eyes were fixed on Sherlock's door for another second before she snapped out of it.

"Fine", she finally said and went into the living room to make the phone call.

John and Molly, being left alone, looked at each other.

"That could have been worse", Molly joked and John nodded.

"Have you solved the case?"

"Yes."

Molly smiled happily just as Sherlock returned with one of his black shirts and handed it over to his friend.

"Here, cover yourself up before Molly jumps at you."

"Excuse me?" she asked in confusion.

"You were staring, Molly. Understandable, after a long abstinence from sex. But he is your best friend's fiancé, so I would recommend to fixate your sexual cravings on another male."

Molly's cheeks were flaming hot.

"I don't have sexual cravings! And I certainly wasn't staring!"

"Cab is on it's way", Molly said as she re-entered the kitchen. Her eyes fell on Molly's flushed face and her eyes instantly darted to Sherlock.

"What did you do now?"

"It's fine", Molly wanted to say, but Sherlock had already started talking.

"I was just pointing out that your friend was oggling John's bare chest and I recommended to look for another mating partner, for your friendship's sake."

"Dear Lord", Molly cursed and wanted to explain herself, but Mary was faster.

"Why would she do that? She knows she's always welcome to join us."

"WHAT?" John and Molly gasped at the same time, but Mary had her whole attention focused on Sherlock, whose eyes widened for a second before they narrowed.

Mary only grinned at him before she walked over to John and helped him to put on the shirt. His cheeks were flushed now, too, and he had to clear his throat, his eyes darting from Mary to Molly, who had her eyes fixed on the ground.

"Let's wait downstairs, honey. I don't like the smell in here", she said with a look to Sherlock.

"Oh, how clever. Are you in fourth grade already?" Sherlock snapped back.

Mary ignored him and walked over to Molly, cupped her face with one hand and gave her a lingering kiss on her cheek.

"Goodnight, sweetie. Come over if you have enough of him", she purred and went back to John, who only gaped at his grinning fiancé. She hooked her arm under his and together they went down the stairs.

Sherlock and Molly were left alone once again, Molly still shocked by Mary's briskness. She felt his eyes on her then, cleared her throat and started to tidy up the living room.

Of course he had to follow her.

"See what happens if you invite her over?"

"Being invited to a threesome seems like a success to me."

_Threesome. That's surely a word I'd never thought of saying to Sherlock Holmes._

"Don't make jokes, Molly. She clearly only offered to upset me. We all know you would never do such a thing."

She turned around, the bowl of popcorn in her hand.

"Maybe I already had one."

_Oh Gosh. Why did I have to say this?! I must be more drunk than I thought. Stupid woman making me buy all these banananas. Banananas...Bana...Banaaanas. That's really a funny word..._

Her alcohol-clouded mind needed a second to realize that Sherlock was talking to her.

"Sorry, Molly, but you in the role of the kinky vixen? I think not."

"You listen, Mister."

She was suddenly standing in front of him, her fingertip poking into his chest.

"Even though I have no sex now, that doesn't mean I never had sex before. I did have sex. A lot!"

She slurred the last two words and smiled a crooked smile. She leaned a little closer, the bowl in her hand caught between their bodies.

"And believe you me: .Good!"

With that and another crooked smile she went around him and into the kitchen.

"How many sexual partners did you have?" Sherlock asked from the doorway, leaning against the frame, arms crossed in front of his chest.

Normally, Molly never would have answered it. But, as already mentioned, the bad fellow vodka had losened her tongue. So she put the bowl on the counter and hopped onto it, her feet dangling in the air.

"Phew, let's see...Peter was my first (a bumpy ride, let me tell you), then came Sean, Billy, Nick...oh, I forgot Paul! How could I. Hmm...that was a hell of a night." She giggled, totally obvious of the dark cloud that was forming above Sherlock's head.

"Then there was Jonah, very good kisser, and Patrick, oh, sweet Patrick. He could go all night...And ...oh yeah, Jim and Vikram."

"_Jim_?"

Molly flinched as Sherlock's voice raged through her head. Her eyes fixed on him as he walked closer to her, his whole body tense.

_What did I do now?_

"You slept with Moriarty?"

_Rats!_

She couldn't answer that. Well, she could. But she didn't want to. Not with that look on his face, that raging firestorm in his eyes.

"Answer me, Molly."

He was close now and she averted her eyes, only to see his hand reach under her chin and lift it up a little too quickly. Her vision blurred for a moment, then there were those icy eyes again. Sherlock looked so...young and angry. And something else, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Did he have you?"

Molly gasped as he grabbed her chin tighter and a chill ran through her. Suddenly, she was all sobered up.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

Her voice was only a whisper and Sherlock's eyes moved quickly to her lips. His jaw clenched, a second later he withdrew his hand as if her skin had burnt him.

"Never mind. Clean the mess up, I'm going to do experiments in the morning."

With that he went into his room, not looking back.

Molly ran her fingers through her hair and closed her eyes.

_Did this really happen? Did Sherlock just have a jealous outburst? No, that can't be. Sherlock isn't jealous. You have to feel to be jealous. Clearly I imagined this._

_Note to self: Never drink banana-vodka-cocktail again. Ever!_

With the current event being pushed far back into her mind she managed to clean the living room and the kitchen before she went into bed to a sleep full of dreams of Jim, Sherlock and John and Mary. Even Clark Gable made an appearance.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Yai, I'm back! :) Sorry it took so long. I am afraid it's not that long, but I hope you still like it. :) Thanks for all the lovely reviews on the last chapter. Every single one puts a huge smile on my face. Thank you! Special thanks to vampireyautja for pointing out the mistake. Am too lazy to fix it now, but I will. Thanks! :) And I would like to reckon the person who suggested a prank-war, but I somehow can't find her/him. Maybe it's too late. My eyes are a bit tired. Anyway, that's what I had planned for a while, so I just wanted to say: Nice thinking! ;)

Okay, enough jibberjabber, here we go! Let me know if this is your kind of humor.

* * *

The next morning Molly was woken by a fuzzy paw in her face. The pathologist made a noise of complaint and pulled her blanket over her head. But the brown and white feline wouldn't give up that easily and started meowing as loud as it could. Five minutes she managed to ignore it, even though her head was throbbing from the vodka. Then it started banging at her door.

"Molly! Silence your cat. I am working."

Molly moaned and buried herself deeper into her blanket.

Toby didn't stop meowing and in the end Molly heard her door being opened.

"Molly! Didn't you hear me? I said, silence your cat!"

She only grumbled and turned away from him.

"Molly!" - "_Meow!_"

"Get out! Both of you! I'm sleeping", she growled.

Toby started to walk over her, even her head, to get her attention.

"You're obviously not. Feed the cat, Molly. It won't stop until you do."

"Why can't you feed it?"

"What? Speak up, I barely hear you under your blanket."

Sherlock heard a frustrated noise.

"Why can't you feed it, damn it?!"

She yelled this time. Her throbbing head complained.

"Because it's not my cat. You chose to buy a cat, so you should be aware of the responsibilities that come with it. This domesticated creature depends on your care. If you find yourself unwilling or unable to do so, you should find it a new home."

"Oh, for f#?&s sake, Sherlock!"

Molly jumped out of her bed with the blanket still tightly wrapped around her body, stormed past Sherlock who stumbled backwards and walked down the stairs, ignoring the rock concert that took place in her head.

Toby followed suit and rushed past her which almost made her fall, but she caught herself at the kitchen table, cursed and prepared breakfast for Toby, who was brushing against her feet impatiently. When she bent down to place the bowl on the floor, he almost jumped into it. Molly sighed and slowly got up, her head spinning. She rested her head against the cupboard and closed her eyes, not noticing Sherlock.

He took in her dishelved appearance, the hair in total disarray, drowning in the huge white blanket, face pale and dark circles under her eyes.

_Hangover._

"I hope this will teach you a lesson. You're clearly too old to get drunk like this."

Molly winced as his full baritone blared through her head and shot him a dirty look.

"Shut. Up."

She walked into the living room and threw herself onto the couch, facing the wall and snuggling into her blanket.

"You can't sleep here. I'm doing my experiments."

"So?"

"You're breathing is disturbing."

Molly took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Sherlock, I swear to God, if I hear one more word from you, I get off this couch and kick you where the sun don't shine."

While Molly was exhausted, sleepy and bugged, Sherlock's lips twichted in amusement at how she tried to make her soft voice sound all menacing.

"You're clearly not a morning person."

Molly's response was a surprisingly nasty insult, followed by pulling the blanket over her head and disappearing from sight.

With a chuckle Sherlock went back to his experiments, smiling longer than he realized.

* * *

„I can do this", Molly spoke to herself as she stood in the bathroom later that day, looking down at the toilet. She had drunken a lot of fluids yesterday and she really had to go.

Mrs. Hudson's words were still ringing in her ears. This was her bathroom, too. She had rented the whole flat, not just one room! Her behavior really was childish. Determined to finally _do_ it, she lifted up the lid…and jumped back as a mental picture popped up in her head in which the ever so great, perfect detective sits on this very toilet with his pants down, reading the newspaper.

"This is ridiculous", she sighed and shifted uncomfortably. She really, really had to go now.

"He is just a man. You know that. There is nothing to be scared or ashamed of. You share a bathroom and use the same toilet. Get over it", she scolded herself, took another deep breath, turned around, opened her trousers and finally sat down.

Relief washed over her as she finally managed to empty her bladder in 221b Baker Street and a blessed smile crossed her face.

"Congratulations. About time, I'd say."

Molly shrieked as Sherlock's voice came from the other side of the bathroom door and nearly fell of the toilet. In her shocked state she forgot to be embarrassed.

"Oh bloody hell! Were you listening? What on earth is wrong with you?!"

"I just wanted to make sure you were all right. You've been in there for quite some time."

_Yeah, right!_

"You're a very, very sick man, Sherlock! Now go away! Gosh!"

"Oh, get over yourself. It's simple, natural body functions, Molly."

Molly was so furious, she quickly took of her shoe and threw it against the door. She heard a chuckle and retreating footsteps.

With a frustrated noise she rested her head in her hands, her face feeling very hot.

After that impossible moment she decided to took a very long shower, just to show him that she wasn't intimidated by him and that it was her flat, too. The hot water took the edge out of her and she felt collected and relaxed (well, as relaxed as she could be around Sherlock Holmes) as she exited the bathroom, a steam cloud following her into the hallway.

For a second she thought about hurrying up to her room, but decided to confront him instead.

She spotted him on the couch, making his way through a pile of newspapers.

"You will never do that again."

He didn't even look up or acknowledged her existence in another way. Molly put a hand on her hip.

"Look at me while I'm talking to you."

He let out an unnerved sigh and looked up.

"You will never do that again", she repeated.

"Do what?" he asked innocently, but she saw a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

"Sherlock, this was one step too far. You don't want to mess with me."

He only rolled his eyes at her and looked at the newspapers again.

"I'm serious. I grew up with three older brothers. Playing pranks at each other was all we did growing up."

"Uuuhuhuhu, I'm so scared", he mocked her and Molly balled her hands into fists.

In an elegant movement Sherlock rose up from her seat, crossed the distance between them and tried to scare her off by towering over her. He had no idea that the effect it had on her was everything else but scary.

Even though she was mad and still hungover, she couldn't help the blush that spread on her cheeks while his body heat hit her skin.

"You don't really want to challenge me, Molly."

Molly held her head up high.

"No. _You _don't want to challenge _me_. I'm not talking _standing-behind-a-door-and-shout-boo-pranks_, Sherlock. I am talking _put-your-hand-in-warm-water-while-you-are-sleeping -and-make-you-wet-yourself-pranks_."

His lips twitched in amusements as he leaned in even closer. His breath brushed her cheek and Molly's heart skipped a beat.

"You wouldn't dare", finally came his reply and Molly narrowed her eyes.

"Try me."

His eyes roamed over her and Molly blushed even more. His beautiful mouth turned into a teasing smile.

"Bring it on, then."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Fine. I officially call **Prank-War**!"

With that, she whirled around, her open hair hitting his chest and throat, and hurried up into her room. She closed the door and went straight for her mobile.

"Josh? Hi, It's Molly. Yeah, I'm fine. Listen, I need you to send me the book. That's right. _The_ book."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Here comes another short chapter (they somehow get shorter every time...:(). While I was playing around with what kind of pranks they played each other and how this would all go, I thought to myself: "Why not start backwards?" Don't really know if it is a good idea, but I thought, why not. Do you like it that way? Let me know. And if you have some great pranks, please PM me. I have some, but there is always room for more. :D

* * *

„Okay. One of you is going to tell me what the heck happened in here! Now!"

John was looking down on the two habitants of 221b Baker Street with the most serious, angriest look he could manage. Mrs. Hudson was standing in the doorway to the living room, still shaking her head in disbelief as she looked at the mess. The kitchen table was lying on the floor, broken in half, the door of the fridge was open, the shelves and the items it had contained joining the table on the floor, jars broken and oozing out several liquids.

The living room was in a slightly better state, the only thing different from the usual mess was that Sherlock's chair had been knocked over.

The detective and his pathologist were the most shocking thing the landlady saw in this apartment, though. They were both sitting on the low coffee table, Sherlock only wrapped in a towel, dripping wet, with a milky substance sticking to his body and in his hair. He had his chin held high and looked sternly forward while the small woman next to him, fully dressed but her clothes drenched, had her head bowed down and looked at her hands. Her blue hair was shielding her face from view.

Yes, you read correct. Her hair was blue.

"Things kind of gotten out of hand, I guess", she whispered after Sherlock remained silent.

"You GUESS?! Look at you. Look at the flat! What on earth happened?!"

Molly wrapped her arms around herself, feeling cold.

"When Mrs. Hudson called me in panic to tell me about the noise upstairs I nearly had a heart attack. I thought Moriarty was back and you two were about to be killed."

"Don't be silly, John. Moriarty is long dead."

"Not the right time, Sherlock", John growled and pointed at him.

"What has happened? And what is that on your skin? And why is Molly's hair blue?"

Again, silence.

"Don't force me to call Mary, Sherlock. You know she would love seeing you like this."

Sherlock's head whirled around, the milky drops flying from his hair and through the living room.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, you know I would."

Sherlock glared at an unimpressed John Watson for almost a minute, then he sighed unnerved and turned his head again, staring at the fireplace.

"Prank war."

John blinked.

"Come again?"

Another sigh from the detective.

"It's a prank war, John."

John looked from Mrs. Hudson to Molly and then at Sherlock again.

"Like with the electric doorknob?"

"Exactly."

"But this was like a month ago."

"That was one prank out of many."

John opened his mouth, then closed it again. How are you supposed to react to the fact that two of the smartest people you know play childish pranks at each other for over a month?

"I don't know what to say to this. Except that I am very disappointed in you, Molly."

She lowered her head even more.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Why are you only disappointed in her? Are you implying that this can be expected of me?"

"Absolutely."

"She started it!" Sherlock snapped and Molly nudged him roughly.

"I did not", she murmured angrily. "It was you and your disrespect for my privacy."

"Oh yes, like me overstepping boundaries is big news", Sherlock mocked her.

"Oh, shut up!"

"You shut up!"

"ENOUGH!"

Sherlock and Molly flinched and looked at John.

"I don't care who started it, I'm ending it! That war is over! Is that understood?"

"Yes", Molly whispered.

Sherlock needed another angry glare to give in.

"Fine."

John nodded.

"Very well then. Only one thing left to do."

He quickly pulled out his phone and took a snapshot of Sherlock. The detective bolted up from his seat.

"You're deleting this."

"I don't think so. And if you don't behave I'm going to send this to Mary and your brother."

Sherlock stepped forward to get hold of the phone, but John only laughed in his face and rushed down the stairs and out of the building.

"If he's going to show this to anyone, there will be consequences", Sherlock said icily to no one in particular and Mrs. Hudson shook her head once again.

"You two…I don't even know what to say."

"If you figure it out, send me a text. Goodbye, Mrs. Hudson", Sherlock said and direct the lady out of the apartment.

When he came back, Molly stood in the living room and looked into the mirror, her beige blouse sticking to her small, perky breasts, the white laced bra underneath clearly visible. Sherlock was momentarily aware that he was only dressed in a towel…and sticky flour bits.

"John was right. We really need to stop. Look at us."

Sherlock unglued his eyes from Molly's breasts and looked into the mirror. Molly was grinning and he could see how his mouth turned into a grin, too.

Then they laughed. They laughed like maniacs until their bellies hurt.

"Have you seen their faces? That was hilarious", Molly said between giggles.

"We really are fools."

"Absolutely."

"I need another shower:"

"And I should change. John's long rants and the wet clothes lowered my body temperature."

Sherlock smiled as he watched Molly walk towards the stairs, her long baby blue hair sticking to her back when it hit him.

"Who won?"

Molly turned around.

"That's pretty clear, don't you think?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed.

"Yes, it is."

Molly saw his face and put a hand on her hip.

"You don't actually think you won this war, do you?"

"I do."

"What?"

Sherlock only pushed his chin forward proudly.

"Tsk. We'll make a list."

Molly was already walking towards the kitchen when she realized that she still was pretty damn wet...and cold.

"When we are decent again."

She couldn't resist to glance at Sherlock's beautifully defined upper body before she quickly turned and ran up the stairs.

An hour later and both of them looking human again (well, except for Molly's hair color), Sherlock and Molly sat down on the couch and she wrote their names on the notepad and separated them with a long vertical line.

Sherlock appreciated her organized approach to this.

"Okay. First one?"

"The shoes, I believe."

"Right. One point for you", Molly said and Sherlock grinned as he remembered that simple but funny little prank that led to oh so many others...


	10. Prank War: Disco Boots

A/N: Wow, I never would have thought you would like the last chapter so much. I am truly surprised and happy. A little shoutout to everyone who reviewed: a-lonesome-human, Rocking the Redhead, Renaissancebooklover108, louvreangel, Iggylnin20218, MegHolmes, Ambur, Nocturnias (or as I call her since the last chapter of 'Through a Fairytale': Nocturiarty) and MorbidbyDefault (my official prank-consultant :)).This will start out harmless and increase over time. If you know a great prank, don't hesitate to contact me. There's always room for another one.  
Anyway, let me know what you think. Btw, I was thinking of the boots from the movie 40-year-old-virgin. :)

* * *

At first, Molly wanted to let it go. As soon as her anger subsided, so did her urge for revenge. And she thought Sherlock felt the same, for the next few days he didn't say anything about it. Molly couldn't say that she wasn't surprised. Maybe Sherlock was more mature than she had given him credit for.

Yet, when the book arrived at Bart's, Molly couldn't help but grin.

Currently, she was looking at it, hiding in the toilet, just in case Sherlock would waltz into the lab.

"Boy, this brings back memories", Molly mumbled and let the fingers glide over the cover of '_The Holy Bible of Prank War'_.

Back then, her brother Josh had taken a real bible, had ripped the pages out, had drilled holes into the lid and put blank pages in they had filled with all the pranks they had come up with throughout the years. Carefully, Molly opened the lid and started to thumb through the book, re-living her childhood and smiling at the child-like handwriting and the pictures they had drawn. It really had been a wonderful childhood, even though she had suffered in the beginning because she was the youngest of the four of them and their preferred victim. But she had learned quickly and in the end it was all against all, fighting for the title _prank king_ or _prank queen_.

Their mother had been scared and angry all the time, but their father had been nothing but supportive. He had often laughed the loudest when one of his children had come into the room, his face painted with waterproof marker.

Molly smiled thinking about her father. She still missed him and she wondered if he would be supportive now that she wanted to play pranks at a grown man, being a grown-up herself.

"Probably not", she said to herself and closed the book, not thinking she would actually use it.

But then came that Tuesday and everything changed…

A ray of light hit her face, causing her to wake up. It took her a second to process that the sun normally wasn't up on 5.30 in the morning this time of year and that this could only mean that she had overslept.

With a shriek she bolted out of her bed and ripped open her closet, threw on some clothes and ran down the stairs, did what couldn't be described other than a catlick and rushed into the kitchen while pulling her hair into a ponytail.

"Go, go, go", she swore to the coffee maker, trying to make it make coffee faster. When it was finally done, she hastily poured some in her to-go mug, put the lid on and hurried into the hallway, throwing on her jacket and grabbing her bag. She slipped into the shoes and wanted to run downstairs…but the shoes didn't move.

With flailing arms she tried to keep her balance but lost and with a shriek she fell down on her butt.

"Ouch!" she screamed, her bum hurting from the fall. As she tried to make her feet move – grabbing her ankles and pulling roughly – a shadow appeared in the hallway.

Molly's head snapped up and she saw Sherlock leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest, grinning from one ear to the other.

"Sherlock! You bloody git! What have you done to my shoes?!"

"I glued them to the floor."  
"WHAT? Son of a…"

She pulled at her shoes again, but they wouldn't move. With a frustrated grunt she pulled her feet out of them and tried to get them off the floor while she knelt in front of them, pulling with all the force she could manage.

Sherlock laughed, clearly enjoying the show.

"Stop laughing, dammit! I am late for work!"

"I know. I turned off your alarm clock."

She glared at him.

"You've been into my room?!"

He only smirked at her.

After three more attempts to get her bloody shoes off the bloody floor, she let go with a grunt.

"Dammit Sherlock! These are my only shoes! What am I supposed to wear to work?"

He grinned even more and grabbed something from around the corner.

"Oh no. You can't be serious. I'm not gonna wear these!"

"Fine. Go barefooted, then."

"I just get my slippers."

Molly was already on the stairs when Sherlock said.

"If you can find them…"

"Argh!" Molly yelled out and threw her arms into the air. Then she turned around, stormed over to him and ripped the sparkling silver disco boots with the fake goldfishes in the clear heels out of his hand and sat down on the chair in the kitchen to put them on.

Sherlock's chuckle caused the little vein on Molly's forehead to pop out.

"You know, I was resolved to let this go. I don't hold a grudge for long. You of all people should know that. But now…"

She stood up, wobbling over to him in the heels – Sherlock had to suppress another laugh – and poked her index finger into his chest.

"Now I will destroy you! If you want prank war, you will have prank war!"

With that she turned around, almost stumbling over her feet, grabbed her things and made her way down the stairs. Halfway down the first flight she turned around, throwing him a death glare.

"And get my shoes off that floor!"

Sherlock chuckled as he saw how Molly went down the stairs, supporting herself by pressing her arms against the walls. As soon as she was out of sight, he shook his head and went back to his room, grinning like a mad man and slouching down on the bed, crossing his hands behind his head. Morning had never been so pleasant, he thought.

* * *

Molly was fuming the whole day, her feet hurting badly in those ridiculous boots. She got weird looks and openly laughed at with fingers being pointed at her the whole morning and in her lunchtime she locked herself in her little office, pulled out _The Holy Bible of Prank War_ and started plotting her revenge, murmuring curses to herself the whole time. If anyone would have seen her, they might have mistaken her for an evil witch or – even more plausible because of her white coat – a mad professor.

After work she headed out to buy new shoes and her 'weaponry' for the war. She figured that she couldn't store it in her room, so she asked Mrs. Hudson to keep them.

"But Molly, what do you want with all these things? Clingfilm, plastic cups, mouse traps…flower soil? And why so much of it?...Are those living fishes in your boots?"

"Please don't ask, Mrs. Hudson. The less you know the better. But I promise it's nothing forbidden or anything."

"Has this something to do with Sherlock?"

"Yes."

"Say no more. I don't understand, but I'm sure you have your reasons."  
Molly smiled.

"Thank you. Friday is movie night at Mary's, by the way. Would you like to join us again?"

"Oh, I don't want to bother you kids", Mrs. Hudson said.

"We're not fifteen anymore, Martha. Last time was great fun, wasn't it? Although I can't make any promises about the movie. It's Mary's turn to choose the film."  
"Oh dear…"

The women laughed.

"Well, I think I'll risk it if you girls don't mind."

"Of course not. The more the merrier."

With this being settled and the things stored away in Mrs. Hudson bedroom (the elder woman told Molly that Sherlock never went in there, for whatever reason), Molly took off the boots and carefully walked up the stairs to her flat.

She was fully focused, listening for the slightest of sounds. But there was nothing. She slowly put down the shoes and her bag and hung her jacket, all the while trying to make as less noise as possible. Then she started searching the rooms, starting with the kitchen, followed by the living room. When she had made sure those rooms were clear, she pulled out her mobile.

"Hey, Molls."

"Hi, Mary. Listen, is John with you?"

"I'm fine, thanks. So lovely of you to ask", came it from the other end of the line sarcastically.

Molly chuckled.

"I'm sorry. I'm a bit in a hurry."

"Oh. Fine, then. No, he's out with pouty-lip."

Molly giggled.

"Pouty-lip? What happened to well-tried prick?"

"Trying to mix things up a little."

"I see", Molly smiled.

"I'm bored as hell. There's nothing on the telly. Do you want to go out after you did the thing that you have to do so urgently?"

"I'd love to, but this is going to take a while."

"What is it?"

"Eh…some kind of work."

"Oh boy, please don't tell me you brought a corpse home with you."

Molly laughed. Mary sounded terrified.

"Of course not. Don't be silly."

"Excuse me, but did I find butt cheeks in your fridge or didn't I?"

"They were for an ex…ah, never mind. Could you please let me know when John texts you when he's coming home?"

"Oookay…are you having a date over or something?"  
"No, nothing of that sort."

"Ah…just want to have a little privacy, then?"

Mary snickered and Molly rolled her eyes.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Mary! And stop asking."

"Fine", Mary replied and Molly could _hear_ the pout on her lips.

"I invited Martha to movie night on Friday. Is that okay?"

"Sure."

"Please try to pick a movie we all can enjoy."

Mary sighed.

"How many times do I have to apologize for 'Snakes on a plane'? I already said I'm sorry. Let it go! Geez."

"Just a few more times", Molly joked.

"I'm hanging up now", Mary said, annoyance in her voice.

"Okidok. Have a nice evening and don't forget to text me."

"Yeah, yeah", Mary commented dryly and hung up.

A minute later Molly received a message from Mary including a screenshot from that bloody movie and she only giggled before she deleted it (not before texting back "stupidest movie EVER!").

Now that she knew for sure Sherlock was gone, Molly picked up the box with the coffee powder and a sieve and went down to Mrs. Hudson's again, a wicked smile on her face. When the woman opened with a questioning look on her face, Molly only said:

"Martha, could you please hand me the flower soil?"


	11. Prank War: Coffee, Oreos, a dirty book

A/N: Update! Update! :) Ah, I enjoy writing this. This time, I also inserted a little fluff. Hope you like it. Before we start I'd like to thank MorbidbyDefault (you make me blush! ^^), Rocking the Redhead (I hope you won't be disappointed. I'll do my best), Benedict-Addict Holmes, Peachy Roses (you think so? What gave it away? ;)), louvreangel, Renaissancebooklover108 (if you get them, send me a pic!^^), Melody Starr31 (hope this is soon enough :)) and Kristina (hope you read more than the first chapter, dear. It would make me happy. :)).Okay, that's it. Here we go. Hope you like Molly's revenge.

* * *

When Sherlock came home late that night, he was just as much on guard as Molly had been. But he didn't seriously think that the little woman could get him. He was Sherlock Holmes, after all. Nothing passed him by. Not. A. Thing.

Still, he checked kitchen and living room for buckets on the top of the door or fishing lines that would cause him to fall. He assumed those were pranks Molly would use, given the fact that she had played pranks at her brothers in her childhood. And let's face it, how creative could those have been? We were talking about Molly Hooper after all and _creative_ certainly wasn't a word he would use to describe her.

As it turned out, both rooms were free from pranks and he didn't even bother to check his bedroom. He had locked it before he had left the flat. So he finally shrugged off his coat, hung it at the rack and switched on the light in the kitchen to continue his experiments. He sat down at the microscope and looked into it. For the next 45 minutes it was totally quiet in the flat with the only exception of the sounds of Sherlock working. His body tried to demand rest, but Sherlock knew how to fight it. He stood up and went to the coffee machine to make himself a pot. Next to the coffee maker stood the plate of Spaghetti Bolognese he had found earlier in the microwave. He didn't even had to taste it to find what was wrong with it. The stingy scent of the Tabasco Molly had poured into it had given the prank away and Sherlock had only shaken his head, clearly disappointed.

_This is not a war. This is David vs. Goliath without David having the slingshot_, he thought disappointed as he put the coffee powder into the filter, filled the tank with water and started the machine.

His mind had already drifted back to his experiments when he poured himself some hot coffee, enjoying the smell of the hot liquid. He blew some cool air into it until it had cooled down enough to be drinkable. Sherlock was sitting at the table and was taking some notes when he took a huge sip…and spewed it all over the table. A curse escaped his lips and laughter echoed through the kitchen.

"Revenge is a coffee best served hot", Molly joked as she skipped into the kitchen, hands on her back, looking at the mess Sherlock had made on the table and on his white shirt.

"Flower soil?" Sherlock asked, trying to sound cool and analytic.

"Yep", she grinned and hopped onto the counter, reached for the cookie jaw and grabbed an Oreo.

"What did you do to cover up the smell?" he asked, genuinely interested.

Molly shrugged her shoulders, putting the second cookie into her mouth.

"It's all a question of dosage. And you have to sieve the soil very well so it isn't noticeable."

He watched how she grinned at him smugly, nibbling at her third cookie.

"Would you like one?" she asked and pulled out another cookie for him.

She was too calm, too relaxed. Something was off. This wasn't over he thought and walked over to her to tower over her menacingly, which didn't really work because with her sitting on the counter she was almost as tall as him. He looked down at her cookie for a second and noticed little bits that had fallen off of it. Molly had had removed the lid.

"I'll prefer to pick one out myself", he grinned. To his surprise, Molly shrugged her shoulders again.

"Suit yourself", she said casually and bit into the cookie, happily munching away.

Maybe he had overestimated her. That coffee-prank had been good, but that doesn't mean she was up for more.

He relaxed and reached into the cookie jar, grabbing a cookie, checking it quickly before sticking the whole thing into his mouth…and spewing it out on the floor, flinching uncontrollably.

Molly laughed, holding her belly.

"What the heck is that?" Sherlock asked, stuck out his tongue and removed the leftovers of the bitter tasting cookie with his fingers.

"Stop'n'Grow", Molly laughed and Sherlock only looked at her.  
"You usually put it on nails to prevent nail biting. I injected it with a needle. I'm a little surprised you didn't see it, actually. But the lighting is not very good here in the corner, so I think you're excused."

"Are you immune to that horrible taste?" he asked and Molly giggled.

"My cookies were fine. But the rest isn't, in case you wonder."

"How did you do it?" he asked.

"I know you better than you think, Sherlock. You love Oreos, so I knew as soon as you saw me eat them, you would want one yourself. And I knew for sure you wouldn't eat the one I offered. That it would take four cookies was just a lucky guess." Molly grinned and Sherlock actually was a little impressed by her analytic skills.

But of course he would never admit this to her.

"You will clean up the table", Sherlock glared at her and Molly grinned, hopping off the counter.  
"I don't see why I would do that. Oh, and by the way: The cookies are not the only thing I injected Stop'n'Grow into. Have fun finding out what else I gave an extra flavor."

Sherlock was at a loss of words. He was amazed by this Molly Hooper, standing in front of him, more confident that he had ever seen her. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and she had her head held high, basking in her triumph. But Sherlock wouldn't be Sherlock if he would just let her win like this. He knew her weakness very well, something that would always make her shy away: Him.

With his most arrogant look, Sherlock started to unbutton his shirt, enjoying how Molly's eyes widened in shock, following his fingers freeing the first three buttons, revealing his collarbone and his cleavage.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice shaky and her cheeks flushing.

"What does it look like? I'm taking off my shirt so you can clean it."

"I will not! Stop unbuttoning!" she squealed as he continued to open his shirt.

There she was, the little mouse with her huge eyes and the flushed cheeks. It only took another button and a sly smile to make her run up the stairs and slam her door shut.

Sherlock chuckled, pulled his shirt out of his trousers and shrugged it off.

"It seems we have a draw."

~oOo~

From this day on, it was Prank War. Even though he didn't eat much when he was on a case, he liked to snack. And more often than he'd liked to admit he would find himself grimacing when he tasted that bitter flavor of this horrible tonic in cookies, candy bars and even an apple.

As a revenge, he had super-glued her hand to one of the erotic novels she liked to read and spent an extra long time at the lab to see Molly's attempts in hiding the embarrassing thing from her colleagues and failing spectacularly. Her cheeks had been flushed the whole day and when they sat at the table in the evening, Sherlock carefully rubbing his special glue removal on her fingers with a Q-Tip, she scowled at him while he was still grinning.

"What is it about?" Sherlock asked as he rubbed the Q-Tip on her index finger. Molly hesitated, then she sighed.

"It's about a young woman who has to marry a man who has a reputation of being cruel and of having murdered his first wife in order to save her family's fortune. At the beginning she is very unhappy and frightened, even though she feels instantly drawn to him and his mesmerizing blue eyes that can look right into her soul."  
Molly averted her eyes, clearing her throat.  
"He is cold and distant, but he feels equally drawn to her and they start having a heated affair. At night, the coolness falls away from him and he is a passionate and tender lover, but in the morning he is a cold and distant again, sometimes even insulting…Well, you can guess where it goes from here. She melts down the block of ice around his heart and he falls in love with her, or better said he discovers that he has been in love with her from the first moment he held her in his arms…"

Molly cleared her throat again, her eyes darting to him.

"It's a silly story."

"Definitely," Sherlock replied coolly, taking her hand in his and turning it over so he got better access to her fingers. Molly watched how his pale, slender fingers moved over her hand almost tenderly, sending goose bumps up and down her spine. If he would have looked up from his work, he would have seen her deep blush and the longing look of her eyes. But he was fully concentrated in removing the glue from her fingers.

There was always something he missed…

"There you go", he said proudly as the book fell from her hand and landed on the table. Molly flexed her fingers and wiped them with a dish towel.

"I would say thank you, but you are the reason this happened, so I will only promise you revenge for this."

He gathered his things and looked up at her, his curls bouncing and his mouth smiling.

"Looking forward to it", came his cheeky reply and he rose from his seat and carried his stuff back to his room.

Molly sighed and rested her chin in her hand, looking at the closed door of his room.

"You really are an idiot, Mr. Holmes."


	12. Prank War: Scratching the itch

A/N: Woohoo, another chapter ready. This was fun to write. Hope you enjoy reading this. But before we start, a sherlolly-fan-hug for leaving a review to Rocking the redhead, MorbidbyDefault (oh yeah, you're absolutely right! That was hilarious.^^), ConstanceBoniful, whytejigsaw (they are enjoying this...for now *evil snicker*), Iggylnin20218, louvreangel (very well said), AdaYuki, Renaissancebooklover108 (it's real, actually. My mum used this on me when I was biting nails as a child. It's disgusting, but it definitely cures you^^), vmkeetch, deadgurlagain, a-lonesome-human (well, she is shy and he is foolish, so I fear with have to wait for it a little longer...or don't we? *tease*). Benedict-Addict Holmes (thank you. I'm also a passionate sherlolly-reader, so I totally understand. Try my best to keep the updates coming. :)), Vicktory (you make me blush and smile, thank you^^), MelodyStarr31 (oh boy...I don't want to be held responsible for any damage this might cause! May be I should put up a warning?;)), Becca (they will be showering involved later on, fear not ;)), BlackDiamond07 and a very big hug to Kristina for commenting for filling my inbox with a lot of -notifications that a new review has been posted in such a short time. Thanks. Okay, enough rambling, lets have some pranking!

* * *

Molly was absentmindedly humming the theme song of _Indiana Jones_ whilst cleaning some Petri dishes in her laboratory when the tall handsome consulting detective entered her territory.

She instantly looked up, scanning for anything odd. This is how it was between them at the moment. They always looked at each other in high alert, either waiting for the other to play another prank. So he stood there for a moment, scanning her, too, before he took off his coat and scarf and placed it on one of the stools and sat down in his usual place in front of the microscope.

"Hand me my cultures, please", Sherlock said without bothering to greet her first. He had already done that this morning in their kitchen when she had nibbled at a toast and read the newspaper. One greeting a day was enough in his opinion.

"My hands are wet, Sherlock."

"You're wearing gloves. Just take them off."

"No. I'm not done cleaning. Go get the cultures yourself. You know very well where I put them, so don't even start to pretend that you don't."

Sherlock pouted at her, but she had her back turned to him, so she was save from the magic he usually worked on her to make her do him what he wants. With an annoyed scoff he raised and was halfway out the door when he saw her looking after him from the corners of his eyes. Alarm bells went off in his head and he turned around, grabbed his things and with a triumphant grin in her direction he walked next door to fetch his cultures. To his misfortune, the blue scarf got caught in the closing door and fell on the floor.

Suppressing a giggle, Molly ripped off her gloves and was at the door in a flash, picking up the scarf. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a little flask containing a blue powder, which she had been carrying around for a few days, waiting for an opportunity like that, but Sherlock had been on constant vigilance. Finally, she got lucky.

It had been white originally, but Molly had mixed it with food colouring to match the scarf. Quick as a cat she sprinkled the powder on the soft cotton, folded it and rubbed it in. Molly placed it between the doors just in time. She heard his heavy footsteps approaching and in another flash she was standing at the sink again, grasping new gloves from the box next to her and quickly put them on while she heard the door swinging open and Sherlock's footsteps pausing.

Her heart was pounding hard against her chest as she tried to push the gloves she had worn before into the water without drawing attention. It worked, for Sherlock was still examining his scarf on the floor. Then he threw her a quick glance, seeing that she was still washing her materials, looking relaxed from what he could see. He decided that his mistake had passed unnoticed and bent down to pick up the scarf and quickly pushed it into one sleeve of his coat so it wouldn't fall out again.

Molly grinned broadly as she heard him sitting down and getting to work.

_This is way too easy_, she thought happily.

* * *

"The victim is 54, male, no signs of an attack. People saw him fall down, shaking heavily for not even a minute before he died. He didn't make any sound, didn't call for help or anything…"

Sherlock scratched his neck for the fifteenth time now, barely listening to the Detective Inspector. John leaned over to him, asking if he was all right.

"Yes", Sherlock hissed unnerved and stopped the scratching, even though his neck was still itching like it had been for the last hour.

"Just cut to the chase, Detective Inspector. What have you found that made you call me?" Sherlock asked impatiently and Greg glared at him for a second before he nodded and Anderson handed him several bags full of pieces of paper in various colours.

"We found this in his pockets…in every pocket, to be exact."

On every piece of paper was written the same word: **HELP**.

"So while the man didn't call for help as he died, his pockets were full of those notes?" John asked and Greg nodded, throwing Sherlock a quick glance as he started to scratch his neck again.

"Interesting. Anderson, check the paper and the ink that was used and text me the results."

"I'm not taking orders from you", Anderson spit back, but Lestrade only raised his hand and told him to do what Sherlock said.

With an angry snort he ripped the bags out of Sherlock's hand and started to walk away as Sherlock called after him.

"Good thinking writing down the respective pocket the notes came from. I'm positively surprised."

Anderson just turned around and gave him the finger. Sherlock grinned before the itching on his neck overwhelmed him once more and he started scratching again.

"What the heck is wrong with your neck?" Greg asked.

"Nothing", Sherlock snapped.

"Let me see", John said and wanted to pull down his scarf, but Sherlock slapped his hand away. Then John slapped his hand away. The friends looked at each other for a second, then started slapping their hands away like little girls and Greg pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.

"I'm a doctor, Sherlock. Just let me look at your neck, for heaven's sake", John insisted and slapped Sherlock's hand away once more before he finally grabbed his scarf and pulled it down. There was a flaming red ring around his throat and neck.

"Could you hand me a torch, Greg?" John asked.

"Oh, don't make such a fuss about this. It's just an itch."

Lestrade pointed his torch at Sherlock's throat and whistled through his teeth as he saw the red dots contrasting his pale skin.

"Whoa. That looks rather painful. Maybe it's the scarf."

"Don't be rid…" Sherlock started but then everything made sense. The lab, the scarf stuck in the door, Molly's innocent smile.

Sherlock almost ripped the scarf off of his throat and held it into the light. He brushed over the cotton with his gloved hands and saw some bits of powder gushing down.

"That little witch", he murmured and his lips twitched. She really got him again. He was surprised…not in an unpleasant way, which was even more surprising.

"What did you say?" John asked and Sherlock straightened up.

"Nothing. I'm going home. Send me a text when you have results, Lestrade."

He whirled around, holding the scarf at arm length. The cool air hit his throat and Sherlock almost sighed in relief.

"What's going on? What's with your scarf?" John asked, hurrying after him, obviously worried.

As Sherlock threw him a quick glance while he flagged down a cab, he saw a glint in his friend's eyes that stung his heart.

_He is afraid that something like the fall happens again_, Sherlock analyzed, _that I keep information from him so that he won't be able to help me._

He didn't know how to process that. On one hand, he was hurt by the lack of trust John obviously had in him, on the other hand it was an understandable reaction after what had happened.

"It's nothing serious, John. I promise. Just an allergic reaction to the detergent Molly had used. Obviously, Mrs. Hudson didn't tell her about my requirements."

John let out a breath of relief and Sherlock looked away again.

_Best to let it go_, Sherlock thought. Dealing with feelings, or even worse talking about them, wasn't his area.

"Wait a minute," John started as they sat in the cab, "Molly is doing your laundry now?"

"Of course she is. Mrs. Hudson will be gone in a few months after your wedding, so she passed her duties to Molly already in case she has questions."

"Of how to be your maid?" John asked sarcastically and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"She is not my maid."

"It bloody well sounds like it."

"Well, someone has to take care of things, don't they?"

"And why the heck don't you take care of this yourself?"

"Here we go again", Sherlock murmured as John got all worked up.

"Neither Mrs. Hudson nor Molly are your servants, Sherlock. Bless them for putting up with you and your impudence, but they shouldn't let you use them like this. You are a grown man, Sherlock! Part of being adult is to do this stuff on your own!"

"I have more important things to do", was Sherlock's dry comment as he looked out of the window. He heard John take a deep breath.

"You are such an arrogant git sometimes that I just want to throttle you."

"Yes, you have mentioned this the other fourty-two times we have argued about this over the years. And even though I hate repeating myself, I'd like to remind you that Mrs. Hudson and Molly are both willing to do this for me. The only one getting angry about this is you."

John took another deep breath.

"You're right. You're right, sorry. They obviously want to do this, so who the hell am I to tell them otherwise?"

"Exactly", Sherlock said, absentmindedly scratching his itching-like-hell-neck.

There was a short pause and John was already looking out of the window when he murmured.

"And who wouldn't want their flat mate hands deep in their dirty underwear?"

Sherlock stopped scratching and blinked furiously, a blush spreading on his cheeks. He hadn't thought this through…

* * *

When Sherlock came home, Molly was sitting on the couch eating popcorn and watching the millionth re-run of '_Friends_'.

Without a word, he threw the scarf at her and as expected, she squealed and threw it quickly on the floor, rubbing her hand on the cushion of the couch.

"What did you do to it?" Sherlock asked icily and took off his coat to place it over the armchair.

"Just some classical itching powder…oh my."

As Molly saw Sherlock's red throat, she immediately stood up and hurried over to him.

"Are you allergic to rosehip?" she asked worriedly and tugged at the collar of his shirt to get a better look.

"Apparently so."

Not giving it a second thought, she opened two buttons of his Bordeaux coloured shirt and her fingers brushed over his collarbone up to his neck to gently push the collar out of the way.

A jolt rushed through his body at her soft touch and Sherlock cleared his throat.

"Does it hurt?"

He wanted to answer but she blew some cool air on his neck and Sherlock's lip parted in surprise at the sensation. He closed his eyes briefly as she did it again and a shiver ran up and down his spine.

"Well, it's not exactly pleasant" he replied with a slightly hoarse voice and took a step back to bring some distance between them.

"Go sit in the kitchen, I get the aid kit", Molly ordered and his eyes followed her for a second. His body wanted to spring to life but Sherlock quickly suffocated the longing for physical contact, cleared his throat again and sat down at the kitchen table, trying desperately to delete the fresh memory of the thrilling experience.

Molly returned shortly afterwards and placed a chair in front of him and sat down. Their knees touched as she bent over to examine the neck.

"I'm really sorry. If I had known, I would have used the stuff you can buy."

Sherlock's lips twitched again.

"So you would still have played the prank?"

"Of course. It's war, Sherlock. My mercy has its limits."

He smiled at that.

"Why didn't you just buy itching powder?"

"I like to keep things organic", she replied with a grin and he smiled one more time.

She reached for some cooling gel and a cotton ball, poured some on it and gently started patting the red spots on his throat and neck. Sherlock couldn't help but sigh and Molly looked up to him.

"Is it okay?"

"Yes", came his hoarse reply and he closed his eyes when she continued to pat his throat.

When it came to his neck, she rose from her seat and put a steadying hand on his shoulder for better access, her face close to his. Sherlock looked at her while she was fully concentrated. His eyes roamed over her big soft eyes, her cute pixie nose and finally lingered on her slightly parted lips.  
The hand on his shoulder felt very hot all of a sudden and he swallowed hard, unable to tear his eyes off of her.

This was the first time Molly had come so close to him. They have been this close before, but Sherlock had always initiated it. He had been able to brace himself before he had done it. But this time he hadn't had the time to prepare for her soft, flowery scent, her warmth and her breath on his face. It was different. Overwhelming. Scary.

When she finally leaned back Sherlock waited for relief to wash over him…but instead he felt loss.

_How odd._

"Okay, now that I took care of your wounds, can I make fun of you? I waited the whole day to celebrate another triumph over the great consulting detective."

She beamed at him and to make things even more odd, his heart skipped a beat. He furrowed his brows in confusion. Molly misinterpreted this as a sign of disapproval, so she held up her hands in defeat.

"Fine, not tonight, then. But tomorrow you will get dissed, my friend!" she said and tried to imitate what he could only assume was supposed to be a rapper's pose, but he really wasn't sure.

With a happy giggle at his confused expression Molly put the things back into the first aid kit.

"Dinner's in the fridge. Promise me to eat it."

"I have a case", came his instant reply as she walked past him.

"It's only a salad, Sherlock. There's not even salad in it. It's more of a vegetable platter. Your body needs vitamins. You eat too much candy."

While she was ranting from the bathroom, he watched her, not knowing what to think. There was a warm feeling spreading in his chest, which was too pleasant to be right.

Molly exited the bathroom and closed the door, seeing the odd look on his face and tilted her head to the side.

"Is everything all right? Does it still hurt?"

When Sherlock realized that she wanted to come to him again, he jumped off his seat, for he realized that his body was already reacting to the mere thought of this.

"No! I'm fine. There's no need for more of your hands on me!"

Too late did he realize that he had almost shouted and that his words had come out all the wrong way.

Molly froze in her spot for a second, having that hurt look in her eyes he knew too well.

"I'm sorry, I didn't…I didn't know my touch was so unwelcome. It won't happen again."

Sherlock's heart tightened as he saw the tears pricking in her eyes before she whirled around and rushed up the stairs.

"Molly!" he called out after her, but her only reply was the slamming of her door.

"You idiot!" he cursed himself and ruffled his hair.

_What to do? What to do?,_ did it echo in his mind and Sherlock paced up and down for a few seconds, not knowing if it would be better to leave her alone or go and apologize. In the end he decided to go after her and he walked up the stairs quickly and lifted his arm to knock when he heard her sob.  
His jaw clenched and he closed his eyes for a second, a pain shooting through his chest. He wanted to say something, anything, to take it all back, but his logical side wouldn't let him, constantly whispering: _'Keep your distance.'_

This was one of the few times he hated his logical side. He leaned his head and his hand against her door, listened to more of her sobs, trying to convince himself that it would be better to apologize.

_'Not now. Do it tomorrow, when her and your feelings have cooled down',_ was the compromise which was suggested by himself.

He nodded in defeat and pulled away from her door, walked down the stairs silently and went into his room. No more experiments tonight. He was exhausted.

* * *

Reader's complain: "HEY! You said 'light and funny'! That's neither light nor funny! That's sad und painful. You're mean!"

Author: "So, sorry. It just kind of wrote itself. But do not worry, we know Molly to be a forgivable person. She will get over this...and Sherlock has to learn how to deal with his feelings. Of course this can't be a pleasant experience...at first. We know our cold consulting detective. He wouldn't just embrace it like that. I think he would pull back...at first. Just stay with me, okay? Laughter will fill 221b again soon and the tears will be forgotten."

*Reader glares*

*Author gulps*


	13. Prank War: Fancy a cup of water?

A/N:Phew, I'm really glad that you guys aren't too mad about the angsty bit. We have another fight in here, but I think both of them need to blow of some steam. There is 'some kind of tension' hanging in the air. *hint hint* And it's long, too! Wohoo!

Before we start, let me thank the lovely reviewers: a-lonesome-human, magicstrikes, Rocking the Redhead (such a lovely review! thanks!), Potix (yeah, we used that all the time, too. ^^), Kristina (hope you like his attempt;)), BlackDiamond07, MorbidbyDefault, ConstanceBoniful, orangebound (thanks a lot. I am trying.:)), louvreangel, GreenEyedLiz. AdaYuki, Benedict-Addict Holmes, zigra, Melody Starr31 (very sweet idea! I'll try to work in...although I'm not sure how. But it's intriguing! And NO, I'm not to be blamed! I object, Miss!), Vicktory (thank you. Glad you liked it.:)) and Guests.

A special thanks to MorbidbyDefault who suggest the plastic cups. Thank you!

* * *

For the second time ever, Sherlock felt uncomfortable at 221b Baker Street. To make things worse, the first time he had felt this discomfort, the same person had been the reason.

Sherlock stood in front of the mirror and checked his appearance. He had put on the purple shirt, which he knew was Molly's favorite on him. He left the first two buttons open and adjusted his collar. Then he ruffled his hair. He knew she liked his curls, too. After that he took a deep breath, looked at himself through the mirror and nodded. He wouldn't admit that he was nervous.

Molly sat at the kitchen table like she had had every morning ever since she had moved in, her nose in the newspaper while eating a toast with strawberry jam. Only difference: She hadn't set out a plate for him. Sherlock felt an uncomfortable feeling spread in his chest as he entered the kitchen and wasn't immediately greeted by her lovely smile and her warm voice.

"Good Morning", he said and realized his voice sounded a bit shaky.

"Mornin'."

She didn't look up. She didn't even look at him. Panic stirred in him and like yesterday, there was that feeling of loss again. Had he ruined it now? Well, he had managed longer than he himself had expected. Of course he would have destroyed their friendship sooner or later. Everyone had known and had told so both of them repeatedly. Still, Molly hadn't listened. She had moved in with him anyway. She had believed that he could change, that he could be more than a ruthless thickhead.  
Sherlock clenched his fist at that thought. He _was_ more than that. He felt something for her. They were friends and she counted. He had to tell her.

"I am sorry, Molly. I didn't mean…what I said."

"Of course you have", she replied coolly, still not meeting his eyes. "You never say anything you don't mean. That is your curse."

She flipped a page and examined the content of the new one while he just stood there, frozen in place. Seeing Molly like this was painful. She had never been like this to him. Not even after that Christmas party.

"You're right, I did mean it", he began and saw her eyes dart up to him for only a second, "but it came out wrong. I didn't want you to touch me, not because I was appalled by it, but because I was…overwhelmed."

Finally, he had her attention. Molly looked directly at him, her brown eyes shining with doubt and caution. That was painful for him, too.

"I…I don't get touched often, Molly. It's intense for me to…get touched by...a beautiful woman like you."

Sherlock nearly choked on those words and his heart pounded hard against his chest, but he was proud that he had said it, that he had spoken the truth about his feelings to her. That was until Molly snorted a second later.

"I might have believed you if you hadn't said 'beautiful woman'."

She rose from her seat to put her plate into the sink. Sherlock panicked at her words. He didn't want this tense, uncomfortable mood in his home. He didn't want Molly not to smile and look at him anymore, he didn't want her not to put out a plate for him in the morning, he didn't want her to stop cooking dinner for him…he didn't want to lose _her_.

Before he fully realized what was happening he was right behind her and Molly jumped as she turned around, finding him so close to her. They looked at each other for what seemed to be minutes before Sherlock leaned down to kiss her cheek…and Molly leaned back.

"Don't", she said flatly and Sherlock looked at her, his chest feeling tight. He was only inches away from her. Her breath hit his neck and he could feel the warmth evaporating from her body and a part of him wanted to just grab her and drown in her warmth and her sweet scent.

She had never rejected him before. He hated it.

"Don't do it if this is just a game for you."

Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed. How could she even think that? Didn't she know him at all? He might have charmed her to get all sort of things from her, but did she really think he didn't understand that this was different? That it meant something?

Hesitantly, he lifted his arm and Molly's eyes widened as his hand cupped her cheek.

"I'm not the one I used to be, Molly", he whispered and leaned in. He could hear how she sucked in some air as he closed his eyes and placed a kiss on her cheek. It was soft and brief, meant to beg her forgiveness, but as he felt her warmth so intensely now, he lingered.

So they stood there in the kitchen of 221b Baker Street, bodies almost touching, Sherlock's nose brushing over Molly's cheek, his hot breath hitting her neck. She fought with herself, fought for control and the power to remain impassive, but in the end she reached up and her fingers snaked around his wrist, her thumb drawing small circles on his soft skin. Both of them had their eyes closed. They were drowning in each other's scent and warmth, but they couldn't help it. They wanted to drown…

…And maybe they would have if it hadn't been for a certain landlady and her chirpy call.

"Yooohooooooo!"

Sherlock's and Molly's eyes snapped open. They needed a second to realize that Mrs. Hudson had almost reached the top of the stairs and they looked into each other's eyes a moment too long to have enough time to step back, so Mrs. Hudson froze in her spot as she saw them so close to each other.

"Oh…oh my...I'm so sorry for barging in like that…if I had known, I…"

Sherlock cleared his throat and finally took a step back.

"What is it, Mrs. Hudson?" he asked, still looking into Molly's big brown, sparkling eyes for a second before he turned to face his landlady.

"I…um…oh dear, I totally forgot what I came here for."

Sherlock sighed.

"I'm sure Molly will be glad to assist you in case you'll remember. It's her day off today. I am going to visit Lestrade. Hopefully, Anderson hasn't destroyed the evidence yet. Goodbye."

Without another look at any of them Sherlock grabbed his coat and rushed down the stairs and out of the flat.

Both women looked after him, then Mrs. Hudson turned around and fixed her eyes on Molly.

"What did I just prevent from happening?" she asked and couldn't help but grin.

"Nothing!" Molly said a little too shrill and blushed as she worked her fingers through her hair. "It's all part of the plan, actually…"

Mrs. Hudson raised an eyebrow at that.

"It is! Stop looking at me like that. Nothing happened. And there never will…God, it's so hot in here."

With that, Molly rushed into the living room to rip open both of the living room windows. Mrs. Hudson watched her from her position and a knowing grin spread on her lips.

~oOo~

Molly barely left Sherlock's mind that day. Well, Molly and what she had made him feel. This…yearning for closeness, for physical contact. He had wanted to be as close as possible to her so badly that, if Mrs. Hudson hadn't prevented it from happening, he might have had done something as stupid as to pull her into an embrace. He shuddered at that thought, even though it wouldn't have been the first time.

The night of the fall, when everything had fallen quite in the morgue and Mycroft's man had been waiting outside to bring him to some place safe, Molly had rushed forward when Sherlock had already turned to leave and pressed him against her, her arms locked around his neck. He hadn't been in a completely sane state that night with losing John and everything he had had built for himself, so he had buried his face in her neck and had pulled her even closer to him until her body had been pressed against him. Sherlock could still remember the smell of her shampoo and body wash. He hadn't been able to delete this almost a minute long embrace, either.

Actually, if he really thought about it (which he tried very hard not to do), he couldn't delete any second he had spent with Molly Hooper. He had thrown out her things, which that had been scattered all over his mind palace, several times (most of those attempts had happened when he had been alone in a hotel room at night and thoughts about her had prevented sleep to come to him), but bit by bit every single one of those items had been back, in the very same spot they had been, like they had never been thrown out in the first place.

That he couldn't get the short pathologist out of his mind irritated him immensely, so he made sure to annoy Anderson and Donovan even more than usual, hoping to engage in an argument that would take his mind off of the doe eyed woman. But despite the usual insults and the feeble attempts to outsmart him, there was not much for him to occupy his mind. So he called up John to investigate at Leicester Square and they spent a few hours there with no actual results. John wasn't amused about this and he forced Sherlock to go into a restaurant and watch John eat something while his mind drifted back to Molly a lot, which was very displeasing.

In his defense, he wasn't sure about how things had been when he had left her. Was she still mad at him? She had touched him and hadn't pulled away after he had kissed her on the cheek (skin feeling incredibly soft against his lips, just like it had had at that Christmas; but it had tasted differently, maybe a different day cream, unscented). Did this mean everything was fine again?  
His eyes fell on John and he considered asking him about this. Maybe he could make it sound like a general question.

"How is Mary?" He thought that was a good start.

John eyed him, instantly suspicious.

"Fine. Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering…So she forgave you that you abandoned her in that restaurant to go on the case with me?"

"Of course."

Sherlock let the ice cubes in his glass of water circle around lazily in order to appear relaxed and casual.

"And how exactly did you do that?"

John let his fork clatter on the plate and Sherlock looked up in surprise.

"I knew it! I knew this would happen sooner or later. Okay, out with it. What did you do to Molly this time?"

"What makes you think that I did something?"

"Reason one: You never ask about Mary, except you want to make a snide comment. Reason two: You've been in a foul mood all day. Lestrade texted me", John added as Sherlock looked at him innocently.

"I've only chatted with Anderson and Donovan", Sherlock defended himself.

"Yeah, and we all know that's your favorite thing in the world."

Sherlock scoffed at him.

"Reason three and the most indicating one: Molly called Mary and asked her to come over."

"What did she say?" Sherlock blurted out and could have kicked himself. He really wasn't himself today.

"Aha. So you have been bad. What did you do?"

Sherlock pressed his lips together. John stared at him patiently.

"I can't help you if I don't know what happened."

That sounded logical. _Damn it!_

Sherlock took a deep breath and poured his story out with this one breath.

John looked at him for a second, then his eyebrows twitched and he shook his head.

"Sometimes, well, most of the time actually, I really don't understand what's going on in your head. You aren't a sensitive man, but even you – and with all the things that already happened between you to – should have known that saying something like this would hurt her. It's one thing to mock her looks or her dressing, but to tell her that you don't want her to touch you…" John only shook his head again, crossing his arms in front of his chest. The duck lay abandoned on the plate in front of him, slowly cooling down.

"I didn't mean to tell her that. It came out all wrong. I did tell her that."

"Yes, but she didn't believe you. And who could blame her?"

"But I told her I was being serious. She let me kiss her cheek then. And she touched me again. Does this mean she has forgiven me or not?"

"I'm not sure, Sherlock. Maybe she was just caught in the moment. You just don't abruptly stop to…feel whatever that is she feels for you. You being close might just have been a physical reaction. You know, chemistry. That can be overwhelming sometimes."

When Sherlock had told John about this morning, of course he had left out that he had lingered, too, and knew bloody damn well what John was talking about.

"So you don't know", Sherlock wanted to make sure.

"Nope. Hard to say with Molly. If this had happened four years ago I would have said she has forgiven you, but she has changed. She has learned to protect herself from you. She doesn't put up with your crap without talking back anymore. Maybe that means she is over you."

"Over me?" Sherlock asked, his chest suddenly feeling uncomfortably tight.

"Don't you know what that means?" John asked with a disbelieving look.

"Of course I do!" he snapped.

"Then why do you ask?"

Sherlock looked out of the window for a second, John's words echoing through his mind.

"John, be honest now. Did Molly ever say to you that she was over me?"

His eyes drifted to the doctor when there was no reply.

"John?"

"Why do you want to know that? Why are Molly's feelings relevant all of a sudden? You never cared before."

"Just answer the question."

"No. Answer mine, first."

"But I asked you first!"

"We aren't children anymore, Sherlock. If you want me to tell you something Molly told me in confidence, then you better give me a good reason."

The men glared at each other for a few seconds.

"Fine, don't answer then", Sherlock snapped and stood up, threw some money on the table for his water and rushed out of the restaurant, leaving John behind.

The doctor watched him through the window, a smile spreading on his lips. When the thickhead was out of sight, he pulled out his mobile and called his fiancé.

"You have reached the phone of Mary Morstan. I can't answer right now because my fiancé has abandoned me once again to go out with his loverboy, so I am currently taking part in an orgy, including men who are a lot hotter than he is, because he has told me several times that I could do a lot better than him. If you want to take part in the orgy, press 1. If you are my beloved fiancé please speak after the sulky snort."

John laughed as she really snorted.

"You are crazy. And you _could_ do a lot better than me."

"And still you leave me again and again to be with your first true love."

"That's because I trust you."

She snorted again and he smiled. Then she heard her take a deep breath.

"I miss you. I get bored when you're not here to distract me with your paper reading and tea sipping."

He chuckled again.

"I miss you, too. In fact, I just got abandoned again. Would you like to go out? I'm at Leicester Square, having a delicious duck."

"Aha, now that loverboy is gone, I'm good enough to fill the void."

"You know that's not how it is. I love you. Now come over here and have dinner with me."

She sighed.

"Fine. But if you abandon me again…"

"It won't happen. I swear."

"Good. Curly Sue will be busy tonight, anyway."

"Curly Sue?" John chuckled "How do you come up with…wait a minute. What do you mean?"

"Eh, nothing. So, where are you exactly?"

"No, no, no. What do you mean, Mary? What happened at 221b?"

"I'm not telling you. You're an ally to the enemy?"

John got a little nervous now.

"Seriously, what's going on?"

"Seriously, I'm not telling you. But don't worry, Molly has it under control. We just…prepared something to express Molly's feelings about the lovely things he had said."

"Oh boy. How serious?"

"Oh, it's totally harmless. If it was me he had insulted, he would wake up with his hair cut off and a term of endearment written on his forehead."

"So there will be no fighting?"

Mary giggled.

"Oh, there will be fighting. Just wanted to say that Molly goes easy on him."

John sighed.

"You know, I really would prefer if you wouldn't encourage this. They shouldn't be fighting. They should fall in love and hump each other to get it out of their system."

"Ugh, just thinking about it makes me sick."

John could hear her shudder through the phone.

"Now, what about that dinner? I definitely could eat. Hope you have enough cash on you."

John grinned and rolled his eyes before he told Mary where to find him.

~oOo~

When Sherlock entered the living room, everything was dark except for the lamp next to Sherlock's chair. Soft, melancholic music echoed through the room and he found Molly sitting on the couch, a blanket wrapped around her small frame and staring out of the window. A board squeaked under his heavy footstep and Molly turned her head and glared at him.

_Still mad._ _Bugger!_

He opened his mouth to speak, but Molly's eyes clearly told him 'don't even bother', so he closed it again and walked back into the hallway to hang his coat and his black scarf (the blue one was still lying on the floor of the living room, full of itching powder. With the events last night and this morning he hadn't had the time to give it to Mrs. Hudson so she could bring it to the cleaners) and with another brief look at Molly he went into his room…or better said, set a foot in it. That was all the space left in it.

With his mouth hanging open he watched in horror at the scene before him.

_What has she done to my room?! This is my refuge! The only place which is mine and mine alone! How dare she mess that up!?_

Countless plastic cups filled up every inch of space in his room. To make it even worse, they had been filled with water. Every single one. Therefore, it would be impossible to clean this up quickly. He had to pick up every single cup and empty its content before he could throw it out. This would take hours! How on earth did she manage…

His train of thoughts came to an abrupt halt when he leaned forward to look at his bed and found it standing upright against the wall, cling film tightly wrapped around it so the mattress, the blanket and the cushions still were in their original position.

While Sherlock was still in shock, Molly stepped up behind it.

"It was a hell lot of work, but I think it looks pretty good, don't you think?"

He whirled around, seeing her hands put on her hips and a very pleased smile on her face. Something inside him snapped and Sherlock bolted forward, trying to grab her.

As if she was expecting this, Molly squealed and rushed up to her room, Sherlock close on her heels.

She shrieked as he got hold of her ankle and made her fall on the stairs, but she kicked him away and hurried up the rest of the stairs and kind of jumped into her room trying to slam the door shut. Sherlock was a little bit too fast, though, and pushed against the door with all he had. Molly laughed and squealed, trying desperately to get that door closed.

"How dare you go into my room! Rooms were off limits!"

"No! **MY** room is off limits! You never said that I wasn't allowed to go in yours!"

_Dammit, she is right. I never said that._

He pushed a little harder, seeing Toby lay on her bed, watching the scene in front of him with interest.

"You will clean this up! You will put my bed – you touched my bed, dammit! – back into its original position! And where the hell are its legs?"

"They're here with me. I will give them back to you when you have calmed down and apologized."

"Apologize? **APOLOGIZE?!** After what you have done? Let me show you what I will do!"

His arm snaked through the door and Molly shrieked as he grabbed her arm and tried to pull her towards him. She tried to get her arm free, but his grip was like steel, so there was one possible thing left to do…

"ARGH!" Sherlock yelped and pulled his arm back quickly, letting go of the door completely.

"You bit me! You actually bit me!"

He stared at his wound for a second in shock, Molly's teeth marks clearly visible on his skin.

Suddenly her head appeared in the crack of the door.

"Everything's allowed in Prank War" she said in a low, menacingly voice and before Sherlock could react, she finally slammed the door shut and locked it.

Instantly, Sherlock rushed forward and started hammering against it.

"Come out, you little witch!"

He heard her laugh.

"I have to say, you didn't taste as good as I had imagined, Mr. Holmes" was her only comment and Sherlock hammered against the door once more, growling.

"I will make you pay for this, Molly Hooper! I was holding back, but now there'll be no mercy!"

"You were holding back?! You said that my touch disgusts you!"

"What? No, I didn't! Damn it, woman, did you not listen to a word I said this morning?!"  
Suddenly, the anger about the prank was replaced by his anger about her not getting what he had tried to say, to show her.

"Oh, come on! This was just to make me forgive you. This is how you always do it. You insult me, most preferably in front of my friends, and then you think you can make it up to me by a little peck on the cheek, one of your boyish smiles and some charming words! But I am not fooled that easily anymore, Sherlock! I know you and your stupid games!"

"I am not playing games with you, Molly!" he shouted through the door.

"Yes, you do! You always have! But this will stop now! Do you hear me?! After this war, you will be on your knees and begging for forgiveness! I will teach you to respect me! I thought being kind to you, helping you fake your death, lying to the people I love most in the world would make you respect me, but apparently it didn't. So I will teach you the hard way."

Sherlock was staring at her door while she got all worked up, breathing heavily, his own anger subsiding. Her words hurt him. He had a hard time believing that she really thought that he didn't respect her.

"Open the door, Molly", he said calmly and turning the knob.

"No!"

"Please."

"Go away."

"Please, Molly", he said again in a soft voice, his hand still on the doorknob. He needed to see her face.

But it remained silent on the other side of the door. Of course he couldn't know that she was resting her head against it, fighting the urge to open up the door and throw herself into his arms. This voice had always melted down her anger. But she had to stand up to him. This was important, she told herself, if she gave in now, it would all have been for nothing and they would be back to where they had started from. But she didn't want this anymore. She deserved more. If she couldn't have _him_, at least she wanted his respect.

"Molly?" she heard him ask after almost a minute.

Molly stepped back from the door.

"No. I have nothing to say to you. This Prank War is back on and you're going down. If I were you, I'd better get to work with those cups. It took me almost the whole day to arrange them and fill them with water, so it should take you even longer to remove them."

With that, she crashed down on her bed, causing it to squeak and little Toby to bounce. He looked at her, obviously confused by all this and she gave him a little smile and scratched him behind his ear.

"Fine! I don't need your forgiveness. I meant everything I said but if you don't want to believe me, fine! I don't give a damn! MRS. HUDSON!" he yelled as he walked down the stairs. At this, Molly jumped out of bed and stuck her head out of her room.

"She's not here. I told her to stay at a friend's house tonight because I had a 'surprise' for you. Have fun cleaning up all by yourself!"

He glared up at her but Molly only grinned and slammed the door shut again, leaving a fuming Sherlock behind.


	14. Prank War: Warzone 221b

A/N: Aaand on we go! I am not so sure about this chapter, actually. I like parts of it, but...is it too boring? There isn't much Molly and Sherlock in it, but I like John and Sherlock, too. Let me know what you think.

Thanks for the wonderful reviews to Black Diamond07, MorbidbyDefault (oh, I want to write this so badly, but I think it wouldn't be good for the story ;)), louvreangel (it's a gift. And a curse ;)), a-lonesome-human, Gothic Unicorn (thank you. What a nice compliment *blush*), whytejigsaw, AdaYuki, Rocking the Redhead, Thewondermummy (ehem, actually, I've never written the original stories. Just saw the movies with RDJ and BBC Sherlock ^^'), Benedict-Addict Holmes, jellybeanpanda123, MegHolmes (is that fast enough, Miss?), Melody Starr31 (thanks for the prank! :)), Renaissancebooklover108, Iggylnin20218 (I love John and Mary, too. I hope they get some nice scenes in season 3), lililoop and Guest. You guys are amazing and I am very happy about every review you leave for me. Big hugs!

And another shoutout to MorbidbyDefault for suggesting the worms. :)

* * *

If you think for one second that Sherlock Holmes would clean up the mess in his room by himself, you are clearly mistaken.

Sherlock didn't sleep that night, busying himself with his experiments and "The unhelpful notes"-case (John should really get more creative in choosing the titles for his blog) until he could finally call a cleaning service, offered them a more than generous payment if they would come by at once and so three people were busy in his room when Molly finally emerged from her room. She threw him a disapproving look, but he only smiled at her triumphantly.

He had decided to stop apologizing, thinking that he had done enough. If she didn't want to listen, so be it. He surely wouldn't beg and he surely wouldn't continue to feel bad about it (he would just ignore that bloody tight feeling in his chest).

So he followed her into the kitchen confidently and sat down at the kitchen table while she busied herself with making breakfast and coffee…only for herself. The feeling in his chest got even worse. A part of him wanted to be on her good side again, to be shepherded and spoiled by her, her affection for him clearly visible in her eyes. But Sherlock Holmes was a proud man, too proud for his own good, so he remained silent and strictly forbid his chest to continue to hurt.

Sherlock ignored Molly all morning, just like she ignored him. She left the flat without saying goodbye to him and Sherlock had to swallow a lump in his throat. As soon as he heard the door being shut downstairs, he jumped up from his seat and prepared his revenge. The war was back on, Molly had said. And that was bloody well fine with him. He would show her what that really meant.

From now on, 221b Baker Street had turned into a war zone. Pranks were played on a daily basis, at every possible time. No one was save. Nowhere. Both of them pulled out every prank they knew and Sherlock even did research on the internet for more opulent pranks. After some classics like the opened salt shaker (Sherlock), throwing a mentos into diet-coke (again, Sherlock. Acting it out in the lab for their flooring's sake, but still hilarious. She was showered with coke), cling wrap covered doors (Molly, having great fun to see Sherlock twisting and turning to get it off), the cream cheese deodorant (Sherlock, grinning smugly as Molly burst out of the bathroom, only wearing a tight green tanktop and her knickers (Sherlock was momentarily distracted by her firm thighs and the general lack of clothing), yelling at him and attacking him with her smeared armpit, chasing him through the flat) and a living frog in Molly's cleavage (while she was in the kitchen, cooking. The frog survived and was brought back to the park Sherlock had got him from),the pranks were lifted to another level when they included wake-up-pranks in their routines, which turned out to be both their favorites.

Even though both of them locked their bedroom doors before they left the flat, they always found a way in. Molly had no trouble in getting his key from Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock just had one made for Molly's door.

Oh, it started out simple enough with Molly putting a mouse trap on Sherlock's mobile which he used as an alarm clock and as soon as he had reached for it that morning, Molly heard his scream all the way into the kitchen. She suppressed a laugh when he strolled out of his room a few minutes later with his head held high and his night gown billowing behind him.

"Good morning", he said casually and walked past her to get some coffee.

"Good morning."

He carefully sniffed at the coffee and stirred through it with a spoon while Molly watched in amusement.

"Something wrong with the coffee, Sherlock?" she asked playfully, sipping at her own.

"No, everything's fine."

"Yes, it absolutely is", she commented dryly as Sherlock was about to put the mug to his lips. He halted as he saw her evil little smirk before she looked away and he looked at the coffee again. Then he lifted the lid of the coffee machine to find worms mixed with the coffee powder. Sherlock pressed his lips together and poured the coffee into the sink.

"Never thought you would kill living animals just for a prank", he commented as he said down and reached for a toast and put it on the plate Molly had put out for him. She did it again. Sherlock was relieved.

"I don't. They were already dead when I bought them at the pet shop."

"Who pays money for dead worms? Who sells dead worms? Aren't they supposed to be living bait for fish or bird food?"

Molly put down the mug of her delicious hot coffee and turned a page of her newspaper.

"They were leftovers, Sherlock."

"I see", he replied and his eyebrow twitched.

Molly only shook her head and focused her attention back on the newspaper.

While Sherlock ate his toast, his eyes darted to the steaming coffee repeatedly. He really craved for some, especially after that brutal wake up and with his hand throbbing painfully.

Heavy footsteps could be heard and a few seconds later John interrupted what seemed to be a peaceful breakfast.

"Good morning", John greeted them cheerfully. Molly greeted him just as cheerful while Sherlock only turned his head.

"What are you doing here?"

"Lestrade wants to see us, doesn't he? He texted me that there was another victim."

"What? Why did he text you and not me?"

"Yes, Sherlock, why would he do that?"

Molly grinned and Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her before he jumped up and rushed into his room, ignoring John who wanted to say something.

"What's wrong with him?"

"You mean despite the usual?"

John was astonished at Molly's words.

"Since when do you insult Sherlock?"

"I'm getting better at it every day", she smiled proudly at him.

John didn't know what to think of that.

"I have no messages."

Sherlock said coming back, mobile in his hand.

"Maybe you accidently deleted them?" Molly offered helpfully.

"Sherlock, you texted me back to come here and get you", John threw in.

"Did he? Oh my, maybe you're a sleep-texter."

Sherlock glared down at her, Molly smiled up at him and John looked from him to her and back.

"What's going on here? Are you guys fighting again?"

"No, of course not", Sherlock quickly said, straightening himself. "I just get dressed. You wait here. Molly, why don't you offer John a cup of coffee?"

Hehe, that would show her, he thought evilly and went back into his room. When he came back though, dressed in black pants and a deep blue shirt, John sat at the breakfast table, drinking coffee, as was Molly.

When John found to be stared at by Sherlock, he looked up.

"I took the last cup, sorry. But you said I could have some."

"You let him drink this…"

"…fine coffee? Of course I did."

Molly grinned again and Sherlock understood. A bluff. His eyes darted to the coffee machine. She had put the worms on the coffee powder after she had made a pot. To make her bluff perfect, she had put the worms in water first so they were wet and Sherlock didn't notice. He threw her a death glare.

"Come on, John, let's go. No time to waste."

"But the coffee…"

John sighed as he saw Sherlock rushing out, throwing on his black suit jacket and his coat. Molly smiled at him understandingly.

"Will I see you later at Bart's?"

"No, actually. I took a day off so I can help Mary pick out the bridesmaids' dresses."

"I see."

While they were chatting, Sherlock waltzed back in and grabbed Molly's coffee mug to finally get some coffee into him. While Molly didn't seem to notice, John noticed it very much.

Sherlock drinking from another person's cup. That's something new.

He drank it all up, placing the mug back on the table and wanted to rush off without saying goodbye to Molly.

"Bye, honey. Have a nice day", she called after him and made him freeze. His eyes narrowed again, then he looked at John who was more than baffled by this, and walked back to her.

Molly braced herself for the worst, but not for Sherlock bending down and placing a quick kiss on her cheek.

"Have fun today, darling", he purred and watched with outmost pleasure how Molly turned red in the face.

John gaped openly now, trying very hard not to point from Sherlock to Molly.

Sherlock whirled around and finally hurried down the stairs. John needed a second to realize that before he shouted a quick bye to Molly and rushed after him.

"Cheeky bastard", Molly cursed and tried to calm down her fast beating heart. She shook her head angrily and started to clear the table. Before she went out today she had to make sure that her door was locked and save from that sneaky detective…

~oOo~

It turned out the second victim was a young woman with no apparent relation to the first victim, but also found in a public place, citizens watching how she suddenly fell down, started to cringe and died shortly afterwards. No identity was found on her. Her pockets had been stuffed with the notes. They spent an hour at the crime scene, Sherlock entering several surrounding buildings to check where he got the best look. Something told him that the murderer liked to watch his victims die, for he had both times chosen a place where buildings where close. John and the police did the same and one of the policemen actually found something.

As Sherlock had reached his position – an ordinary, inhabited flat (family, mother, father, two children according to the photos that were hanging in the hallway). When Lestrade wanted to send someone to arrest the adults living in the flat, Sherlock stopped him.

"Neither of them is the murderer, Lestrade" he said, obviously annoyed.

"What makes you so sure?"

"The murderer does everything to keep the murders look random, which makes it harder to find him or set up a profile. Murdering someone close to his home would have the opposite effect. And he surely wouldn't leave some of the notes lying on the floor by the window for everyone's eyes to see."

"Maybe he wanted us to find these."

"Oh, he absolutely did. Maybe he even wanted to trick us into thinking he would live here, but we're smarter than that, aren't we?"

Sherlock said and raised his eyebrow expectantly.

"I think you're right, still I have to interrogate them."

Sherlock only sighed as Lestrade turned to Donovan and ordered her to bring the parents in. While no one was watching, Sherlock quickly picked up a note from the floor and let it slip into his pocket.

John stepped next to him.

"Isn't that removing evidence from a crime scene?" he asked in a whisper, trying to look casual.

"Yes. But they are wasting time and I decided to take things in my own hands now."

"Sherlock. Lestrade forbade you to do any step without notifying him. We don't want another Reichenbach fall, do we?"

The taller man only rolled his eyes.

"I'm just analyzing a piece of paper, John."

"Yeah, and last time you were just analyzing some dirt. It went downhill from there."

Sherlock rolled his eyes but with John's worried look, he walked over to Lestrade.

"I'm taking a piece of paper."

"Shhhh", Lestrade made and quickly checked if someone was in hearing range.

"Why the heck are you telling me this?! You know I can't allow that."

"John insisted I should tell you."

"I appreciate it, but we both know that I cannot let you take something from the crime scene officially. Please put _that_ note back exactly where you found it."

Sherlock understood, rolled his eyes in annoyance, put the note where he had taken it from, picked up another one quickly and let that one slip into his pockets. Of course Sherlock was wearing gloves. Lestrade had looked into another direction and John watched the scene in astonishment.

As Sherlock wanted to leave, Lestrade stopped him grabbing his arm.

"Just to be clear. If you find anything, you will tell me immediately. You will tell me everything and you will not do anything on your own. Is that understood?"

"Worried that I make you look bad again, Detective Inspector?"

Lestrade looked up to him, his face serious.

"No, I'm worried that I have to go to yet another of your funerals."

Sherlock swallowed, guilt washing over him as he saw the pain in Lestrade's eyes. He still tented to forget that there were people in his life who loved him despite John and Mrs. Hudson.

He quickly nodded before he went out, John following suit.

"St. Bart's?" he asked as they walked through the crowd to the main street to look for a cab.

"No. Molly's not there as you know and I have no interest in dealing with one of the other pathologists."

Sherlock held out an arm and soon enough a cab stopped in front of them.

"Speaking of Molly", John started as they were gliding through the London traffic, "what was that this morning?"

"What are you talking about?"

John rolled his eyes. He hated it when Sherlock played dumb.

"You know, the pet names, the kiss on the cheek…"

Sherlock remained silent, staring out of the window.

"Something is clearly going on between you two. A week ago you were fighting and now you seem to be a happy couple…oh my god", John breathed. "Is that it? Did it finally happen? Did you and Molly…?"

Sherlock looked at him.

"Did we what?" Sherlock asked and John once again fought the urge to punch him in the face.

"Have sex. Make love. Let her make you a man. Stick your baguette into her oven…"

"Oh, for heaven's sake! Stop it!"

John laughed at his disgusted face.

"No, we didn't. And we never will, damn it! Why can't people ever think about anything else than sex?"

"If you had some, you would understand."

"I highly doubt it."

John chuckled again as Sherlock looked at him arrogantly.

"So you are seriously telling me that it never crossed you mind?"

"Absolutely not."

"Not even with Molly?"

"NO!"

"You're a liar."

"I am not. You take that back!"

John smiled at him smugly.

"I can't blame you. She is a beautiful girl. Actually, I was quite tempted a few times when you were dead."

"I do not think about…you were what?"

Sherlock asked with wide eyes as John's words had been processed by his brain. John only smirked.

"You know we spent an awful lot of time together before Mary came along. We got to know each other…jeez, we even cried together. She is the first woman, despite Harry and my mother, who ever saw me cry, I think. We came closer and Molly had given so much of herself, offered comfort where I needed it…I realized what a wonderful woman she is and, yes, it definitely crossed my mind."

"Do you think she would have said yes?" Sherlock couldn't help but ask.

John shrugged his shoulders.

"We were both pretty down back then. But I couldn't do it. The mere thought made me feel like I was betraying you…which is ridiculous, given that you don't have any romantic interest her at all…right?"

"Right", Sherlock said a little too quickly to not to leave some doubt about the truth in his words.

John only suppressed a grin and looked out of his window.

The rest of the drive was spent in silence and when they arrived at 221b Baker Street and John wanted to climb out of the cab, Sherlock slammed the door into his face.

John only shook his head, chuckling, and gave the cabbie his address.

_Let him fume_, he thought amused. _Makes him think about things, hopefully. He might be smarter than most people, but he's still a man. And men normally don't like to share their women…_


	15. Prank War: Slime, Blood and Electricity

A/N: So, I am back *waves*. Sorry for the delay. With being a SAMFA-judge this year I was pretty busy reading all those great stories...and got a bit intimidated, to be honest. There is really some awesome stuff out there. :)  
Furthermore, I was more in an angsty mood and I knew if I would have written this chapter in that mood, it would have been not as light and (hopefully) funny as it is.  
It literally came to me while I sat at the computer and my mind just poured it out without concsious thinking on my part. Of course I have pranks planned, but that's about it, actually. I just go with the flow with the rest. What do you think?

I would love to thank everyone who left a comment by mentioning their names, but I'm at work (shhhh!) and I have to be quick. ;) I will insert this part later. For now, enjoy reading and leave a review, if you like. :)

* * *

„So, a prank war…" Mary said as they crushed down onto her couch after shopping for bridesmaid's dresses for hours, both a cool bottle of water in their hands.

"Yep", Molly replied and drank some water.

"How is it going so far?"

"Pretty well, actually. It reminds me of my childhood so much…and it's a hell lot of fun to get him."

"I can imagine…okay, I want to get in!"

Molly eyed Mary's eager expression with conspicuousness.

"I think it would be best if this stayed between Sherlock and me." Molly shook her head and laughed.

"Oh, come on! At least let me help! I bet you have use for an electrician!"

_Prank 45, _Molly instantly thought.

Molly's lips curled up and Mary clapped her hands.

"I might have a job for you."

"Oh, that's gonna be fun!"

"But only once! Sherlock would be furious if he knew. You have to make it look like I did it, you know, unprofessionally. He tries everything to keep this from everyone."

"Even John?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure, but I certainly appreciate it. I am aware that this is silly and childish."

"I think he deserves every single prank you play on him. That guy needs to learn some respect and humility."

Molly laughed again.

"Maybe."

Mary snickered and hooked her arm under Molly's.

"Tell me everything you have done and will do to Mr. Know-it-all."

And so Molly let Mary in on her plans. She even told her about the _Holy Bible of Prank War_. Mary was her best friend, after all.

~oOo~

Molly came home late after a joyful evening with Mary and John and she immediately looked for Sherlock. She found him in his chair in the living room, his hands steepled under his chin.

"You're late", was his way of greeting her.

"I'm sorry, did we have some kind of appointment that I am not aware of?"

"Where have you been?"

"What do you think?"

Molly placed a hand in her hip, letting him roam his eyes over her body, deducing her.

"You were with John and Mary. You drank red wine, you had Chinese food. Oh, you even had candles. Very romantic."

She asked the silent question of how he could now with a raised eyebrow. Sherlock sighed and stood up.

"You spilled some wine on your trousers and I can smell the food in your clothes and hair and on your hand…" he reached out and grabbed her hand. Molly didn't object when he turned it around and brushed over her skin with his index finger up to her finger tip. Her heart beat a little faster, "there are remains of wax. You obviously played with it, let it harden out on your fingertips."

"Yes, I did. I like the feeling", she admitted and looked down on their hands. Her cheeks felt warm all of a sudden.

"You're touching me."

"I am aware", Sherlock replied and she looked up to him.

"About to throw up?" she commented bitterly and wanted to withdraw her hand, but his long fingers snaked around her wrist and pulled her back. Hesitantly, she looked up.

"Stop being mad at me, Molly."

"I'm not…"

Her voice sounded hoarse and she lowered her eyes, his warmth and his wonderful scent slowly wrapping around her, making her heart beat even faster.

"Yes you are. I said I'm sorry. I won't say it again."

Once more, she tried to pull her hand out of his grasp, but he still wouldn't let her go.

"I've been stupid and I apologized for it. Can't we just forget it? Friends forgive each other."

His ocean eyes shone with honesty, his eyebrows were raised and his eyes were big, his lower lip was pushed out a little and all in all he looked rather cute asking her forgiveness like that.

"Damn you, Sherlock Holmes", she cursed but her lips were smiling.

Sherlock smiled, too, and finally let go of her.

"It's not fair to use that hurt-puppy-look on me."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Yeah, right."  
Sherlock grinned and Molly rolled her eyes and turned around, heading for her bedroom, trying desperately to calm down after being so close to him. Sherlock still managed to bring her insides in uproar.

"Will you cook me something?" he asked as she was halfway up the stairs.

"No."

"But I'm hungry."

"You don't eat when you're on a case, Sherlock. But nice try. Have something in the kitchen, then? What is it?"

At the top of the stairs she turned to face him while she laid a hand on the door handle.

"I cannot imagine what you are talking about. Now, make me something. I'm starving. I could eat that self-made pizza of yours."

"Ah, must be something in the oven. Really, Sherlock, remember who you are fighting. If you want to win, you have to…"

This is how far she got before she opened the door and green slime was splashing all over her head.

Molly could hear Sherlock's laughter while she tried to get the slime out of her eyes. When she succeeded, she glared down on him, he holding his belly and grinning smugly.

"As you can see, I know very well who I am fighting in this war, Molly Hooper. I used your greatest weakness to my advantage."

"What weakness? Trusting you? Thinking your words were cordial?"

"Oh, they were."  
The smile was wiped form his face when he said that, only to return as a heartbeat-accelerating, crooked smirk a second later.

"**_I_** am your weakness."

Before she could reply anything, before her cheeks could flush under the slimy cover, Sherlock threw her one last look before he went nonchalantly into his room.

She wanted to protest, forced her brain desperately to come up with a clever remark, but as so many times before, it let her down and she stood there like an idiot. An idiot covered in green slime from head to toe.

"Bucket of slime on top of the door, Molly. The oldest prank in the world! You really should have seen this one coming", she scolded herself while she shrugged of her dirty clothes in front of her room, not wanting to get her carpet dirty. She just let them fall on the already dirty wooden flooring and stepped into her room carefully, trying not to drop slime on her carpet while she quickly grabbed some new clothes and her bathrobe. Holding all of this away from her body, she climbed down the stairs again, hurrying past Sherlock's room (and praying to every deity she could think of that he remained in his room while she was only dressed in her not-matching underwear) into the bathroom to take off the rest of her clothes to take a shower.

She locked the door and sighed as she stripped down her underwear and looked at her face in the mirror. What a mess! Bloody Sherlock Holmes! Still mad (more of herself than of him, actually), she stepped into the bathtub and drew the curtain close. She turned on the hot water, waited a bit and stepped into the stream, closing her eyes and let the water wash her clean.

The warmth of the water relaxed her and she even mastered a little smile as she ran her hands through her gooey hair until most of the slime was washed out. She opened her eyes to grab the shampoo bottle when her heart stopped beating.

Blood! Blood everywhere!

She screamed bloody murder and searched her body in panic. The blood was everywhere. On her body, on the white curtain, the bathtub, the water stream…

"What the heck?" Molly muttered as she calmed down and inspected the shower head, which was covered in blood as well.

_A bleeding shower head? I think not. _

Molly turned off the water and twisted the head until it came off and she found the remains of a red powder in there.

Two pranks in less than ten minutes.

_Dammit!_

Molly was furious and jumped out of the tub, wrapped one of Sherlock's big white towels around herself (ha, that would show him) and stormed out of the bathroom and to his door, banging madly against it.

"You bloody git! I will kill you!" she yelled and rattled on the door handle.

"First, you have to get through that door, Miss Hooper", Sherlock's voice came clearly from the other side, like he was standing right in front of it. She heard him chuckle when she banged at his door again.

"I nearly had a heart attack! Come out! Come out! Come out, you coward and face me like a man!"

"I don't think so. I don't want to get my clothes dirty."

Molly made a frustrated noise and hit the door again. She whirled around and stormed into the living room, forgetting that she was still dripping wet and leaving footprints on the red carpet, desperately searching for something of Sherlock's she could mess with. But there was nothing.

"Did you really move the chair into your bedroom?" she shouted over her shoulder in disbelief - and a little amusement.

"I didn't want your red fingerprints on the pricey leather."

Molly whirled around at the sound of his voice, finding him standing in the doorway and grinning at her.

She reminded him of himself standing in the living room with a harpoon and covered in real blood.

_That had worked nicely_, he thought happily.

"Is that my towel?" was the only comment he made aloud and Molly lunged for him with a roar and Sherlock turned on his heels to save himself. He got into his bedroom just in time and slammed the door into her face. He only laughed as she started banging with her little fists again.

"I will use your stupid towels to clean up the bathroom!"

"Just go ahead. It's you who washes them, anyway."

A growl of frustration echoed through the door. Then the banging stopped and he heard her footsteps retreat.

Sherlock laughed and shook his head in amusement as he picked up his violin.

Molly really was quite a sight when she was mad. Her eyes blazing with fire, her cheeks flushed and her whole body vibrating, standing upright and making her a little taller.

With a smile on his face and angry, half naked Molly on his mind, Sherlock started to fiddle a happy tune. A thing he almost never did.

~oOo~

Two days later, Sherlock came home after another body was found. He had his mind full of information about the new victim and was trying to find the connection between the three persons when he halted halfway up the second flight of stairs. John nearly bumped into him.

"What's wrong?" he asked and bent to the right to look past him. Both doors to the flat were closed. "What's the problem?" he asked again.

Sherlock looked at the doors, suspecting a prank. Would Molly really use the same prank with the slime on him for her revenge?

"I need to speak with Mrs. Hudson. You go ahead and make coffee", he said and turned around and climbed down the stairs, pushing John against the wall who complained with a _Hey!_ before he sighed and walked on, opened the door to the kitchen and closed it again.

Nothing happened.

_Must be on the other door then_, Sherlock mused and headed for the same door.

As soon as he curled his fingers around the knob, electricity rushed through his body, making him yelp and cringe uncontrollably. He shook his hand quickly and flexed his fingers while he looked at the knob, finally noticing the little wire that was attached to it. He hadn't seen it because of the little light that illuminated the hallway.

"Open up, Molly", he bellowed and a second later John opened the door.

"What's the matter with you? Molly isn't here."

"What? She must be here!" he stormed passed him into the kitchen to take a look at the other side of the door, following the wire's path down to the ground and into the little hallway next to the fridge which held the laundry room and an office Sherlock never used.

Still in his coat, he ignored the questioning look on John's face and checked the rooms for any signs of Molly. He opened the doors of the big drawer in the laundry room, but she wasn't in it. He checked everything, even the washing machines. She wasn't there. Next came the office, but despite a big desk that once had belonged to his father and some half empty shelves, there was nothing in it. No place for a person to hide.

With his brows furrowed, Sherlock walked back into the kitchen, caught up in the mystery that was the electric doorknob.

"Touch the doorknob", Sherlock instructed John.

"Are you not feeling well?" John asked but after Sherlock shot him an angry look, he sighed.

"Man, you really need some sleep. You're quite on the edge."

"I'm fine. Just touch the knob."

John did. Nothing happened. Sherlock narrowed his eyes, stepped forward and slowly laid a finger on the knob…and jumped as he got shocked again.

Sherlock was angry and intrigued at the same time, looked around for cameras or any sign of Molly, but she was nowhere to be seen. He touched the doorknob again and got punished with another electric shock.

He ordered John to touch it again, and nothing happened. They took turns touching a knob for almost a minute and John couldn't say he didn't enjoy seeing Sherlock flinch every time the electricity shot through his body.

"How long is this supposed to go on? Mary's making dinner and I don't want to be late, even though I have great fun seeing you cringe", John said as he petted the doorknob several times, not feeling anything.

"Just stay here and continue to touch the knob", Sherlock instructed annoyed, his hand throbbing from the electricity. He went into the living room and looked around and even behind the chairs to check if the little pathologist might hide there. Just as he kneed on the couch to look behind it, he saw something out of the corner of his eyes and whirled around, seeing the small wire disappear under the doorframe. He jumped off the couch and wanted to rip the door open just to get shocked again. He yelped once more.

When he heard her evil snicker, anger boiled up and, ignoring the pain shooting through his arm, he grabbed the door handle and ripped the door open, just to find Molly behind it, holding an electric fly batter which had two wires attached to it. She shrieked as she was face to face to him all of a sudden and fled through the kitchen door before he got a hold of her. She threw it shut, he got shocked one last time as he ripped that door open, too, and she hid behind John as he stormed into the kitchen.

"Give me that batter!" Sherlock ordered in a bark.

Molly clung to John's back, holding the electric batter in front of her like a weapon.

"Stay away from me, Sherlock Holmes!" Molly shouted and stepped further back, taking John with her, who only watched that seen silently, not knowing if he should laugh, cry, or shake his head.

"I am armed and I will use it if I have to."

To show him she was serious, Molly turned the batter on again with a little humming noise coming from the device.

"It's just a fly batter, Molly. Do you really think they would sell these things if they caused serious harm?"

"Come here and try it out then, if you dare."

Molly smirked evilly and had a mischievous glint in her eyes. Her arm was locked around Johns shoulder and her face was placed on his other shoulder while they continued to round the kitchen table to keep a safe distance to Sherlock.

"Oh, I will try it out", Sherlock said icily as he followed Molly's and John's path through the kitchen slowly, his long coat swaying behind him, "I will try it out on _you_ as soon as I get a hold on it. I am familiar with several forms of martial arts, Molly. Do you really think you can get away from me?"

To his surprise, Molly's smirk got even wider.

"Sherlock, I got away from three older brothers countless times. A Bruce-Lee-imposer is nothing compared to three furious boys chasing you through the house and the garden."

Sherlock smirked. That was quite a lovely picture she drew, despite the Bruce Lee comment.

"Don't provoke me, Molly. I might have to put you over my knee."

He wanted to make her blush and embarrassed, but in this state it took more to make Molly shy back from the great consulting detective. Instead, her expression got very sensual for a second and Sherlock's heart did a little flip.

"Oh, Mr. Holmes. I'd love to see you try", she said in a purr that vibrated through his body.

"Are you guys aware that I am still here?" John asked casually and Sherlock blinked at him, looking actually surprised that there was another person in his kitchen.

Molly only giggled.

"How could I forget the man I'm using as a shield? You smell wonderful, by the way. What is that?"

Molly brushed her nose over John's neck and inhaled soundly. While John blushed and winced a little in surprise at the intimate touch, Sherlock balled his hands into fists and clenched his jaw. His chest felt tight and something primal and unfamiliar roared to life in him.

"Eh…I think it's Escape…by Calvin Klein", John stammered, noticing the flare in Sherlock's eyes.

"It's delicious…and the cue to my next move."

Before any of the boys could react, Molly pushed John into Sherlock's arms, ripped the wires out of the batter and bolted out of the kitchen. Sherlock stumbled backwards and smashed into the kitchen counter before he could push John off of him and dashed to get Molly. He was too late, though; the door to her room was shut and securely locked before he could reach it.

Banging with his fist against the door once and uttering a low growl, Sherlock walked back down into the kitchen and started ripping the wires off the door.

John was watching him impatiently, waiting for an explanation that obviously wouldn't come.

"I take it that you're not planning to tell me what the heck is going on between you two?"

"There is nothing going on, John. You can leave now. Mary's waiting with dinner and she will accuse me of keeping you if you show up late."

John wanted to argue with that, but after checking his watch he realized he really had to go if he wanted to make it in time.

"Fine, I'll go. But you will explain this to me tomorrow."

"There is nothing to explain", Sherlock only said and raised from his kneeing position, the wires in hand. He took a quick look at him before he tossed them onto the table.

"And send your future wife my regards. The next time she provides Molly with wires, she should ask what she needs them for."

John only sighed in defeat. Sherlock was not going to explain any of this, so he said his goodbyes and walked out of the flat, instantly calling Mary as soon as he was standing on Baker Street. Mary answered at the fourth ring.

"I made a chicken, John. A complete chicken. In the oven. For hours. I actually sat in front of the bloody oven and looked at that chicken, making sure it was okay. Bathed it in gravy over and over again. I pampered this chicken, John. He's my baby. I think I'll name him Bob."

John laughed and walked down the street, looking for a cab.

"So how's Bob doing?"

"Oh, they grow so big and brown and crispy so fast. Mommy is so proud of her boy."

John laughed again, putting his arm out to flag the cab down that was coming his way.

"It sounds delicious."

"What? NO! We can't eat Bob! He will stay with us. He can sleep in the nursery and when he's grown up we'll send him to chickenversity."

"Please don't tell me you put that bird into the crib your mother sent us in anticipation of a grandchild."

"His name is Bob! And I might have."

John laughed, ignoring the concerned looks from the cab driver. He quickly covered the speaker of his phone and told the cabbie the address before he focused on the lunatic that was soon to be his wife again.

"You know, I actually can see you do this."

Mary laughed.

"Yeah, me too."

They chuckled and Mary sighed.

"Now, are you telling me you're not coming to dinner? I can eat a lot, but I can't eat Bob by myself and he will be dry when you get home later."

"No, I'm coming. Sherlock released me early today", he joked and Mary snorted.

"How gracious of He-who's-name-sounds-like-an-armpit-fart."

John laughed again.

"Speaking of him, what is happening in 221b Baker Street?"

"Oh, right. Did it work?"

"You mean if Molly succeeded in shocking Sherlock several times? Yes, it did work. Splendidly, actually. What was that all about?"

"Ehm…"

Mary hesitated.

"Mary. Tell me what's wrong with them…Mary!" he insisted after she remained silent.

"I am not at liberty to speak."

"Tell me!"

"No! I promised. Pinky-swear and all that girly bullshit."

"I am your husband."

"Not yet. Even though it's a big turn on for me when you say it like that, a little anger in your voice, making you sound all manly and strong."

"I always sound manly and strong. When did I…oh, ho, ho, nice try, young lady. I'm not falling for this one."

"Darn!" Mary replied and he could hear her smirk through the phone.

"You're going to tell me what Molly is up to."

"It's not just Molly, John!"

"So this was kind of a revenge? For what?"

"Bugger, I shouldn't have said that…oh look, little Bob needs another bath."

"Mary!"

"Gotta go, honey. Bob and I will be waiting for you. Say bye, Bob."

"Mary!"

"Hm, seems he doesn't want to talk right now. Must be hard without his head. Oh well, bye darling!"

"MARY!"

And she hung up.

John groaned in frustration and put the phone back into his pocket.

The cab driver shot him another look through the rearview mirror and John smiled apologetically.

"My fiancé. She's in a mental hospital, talking to birds and stuff. Totally harmless."

The cabbie just quirked and eyebrow and made a "_Mhm…_" noise, before he concentrated on the road again, ignoring John for the rest of the drive.

John made sure to extra tip him when he got out.

* * *

At John and Mary's flat there was quite a debate of what happened at Baker Street. But Mary wouldn't be the woman she was if she didn't manage to stand up to John Watson, even when he nuzzled her neck the way she loved so much.

A promise is a promise and Mary Morstan would never betray the trust of a friend. And that is that.


	16. Prank War: 'Lack' and a dinghy

A/N: Ten days. That's okay for an update, isn't it? Anyway, I am not sure about this chapter. I definietly like the pranks, but I am afraid it got too depressing at the end. Listening to the Cloud Atlas Soundtrack does that to me. It's so beautiful and sad and full of longing...go check it out. It's sublime.

Are you already fed up with the pranks? I gave you some fluff, but I want to take this slow. Sherlock isn't easily broken, I think. I would write two more chapters with pranks and at the same time pushing the story forward (I waited so long to write this, wohoo!^^). Well, let me know what you think, please. :)

Before we start, a sherlolly-hug to all the nice people who left a review on the last chapter: a-lonesome-human (OMG, really? What a coincidence. That had just popped into my head whilst writing. This is hilarious! But I think it's safe to say that this isn't common holiday procedure. *hrhr*), Rocking the Redhead (well, who doesn't like jealous Sherlock? It's so much fun, to read and to write;)), AdaYuki (oh yeah, I totally forgot to mention what it was! MorbidbyDefault suggested something called kool-aid (thank you so much for that, btw). In Germany we have"Ahoj-Brause"; both is powder to color your water. Loved it as a kid. But you can also crush some colored cereals. Watched that in a video, where I originaly got the prank from), magicstrikes, Benedict-Addict Holmes (that's actually one of the nicest things someone EVER said to me about my writing. Thank you so much!), Potix (ah, how sweet. :)), ConstanceBoniful, hagiga (please don't hit me! Hope the fluff is carrying you through the suspense?), Renaissancebooklover108, Ambur (who wouldn't love to see that, right?;)), MegHolmes (thank you and I hope you enjoy this one, as well:)), crooney83 (yeah, that's what I love about this Sherlock. Although he always argues that 'love is dangerous, bla bla bla', I think he is very possessive with the people he loves, like he's afraid that they stop loving him when they find someone else), MorbidbyDefault (I'm sorry I didn't mention your involvement in the last chapter. I will correct this when I get off my lazy butt. Hope that's okay?), Kristina, sheilarae1234, Iggylnin20218, Anatomydoc (hope this is fluffy enough for you), TheFireSagittarius, whytejigsaw, travellady77 (you really think ignoring Molly would work? He ignored her for the past years, so I think that it would have the opposite effect. Or did I misunderstand you?), MelodyStarr31, patemalah21, Sinister Scribe, KraZiiePyrozHavemoreFun, hermione-amelia-rose1479 (*blush* oh boy, please don't. Believe me, there is much better stuff out there! :)) and Guest.

* * *

It's a lovely Saturday morning and Molly checks the time on Sherlock's mobile.

6:15 am.

_Well, he's been in bed for nearly three hours. Time to rise and shine._

With a loving smile on her face she looks down on the sleeping form that is Sherlock Holmes. He is lying in his own bed in his own bedroom, of course, to which Molly got access through the key from Mrs. Hudson.

He really looked adorable when he was sleeping. The dark curls were in wild disarray and a lovely contrast against the white of the pillow. It amazed her how young he looked with his face totally relaxed; young and almost innocent in his slumber.

His head was tilted to the side and his beautiful lips were slightly parted and Molly felt the overwhelming wish to kiss this perfect cupid's bow.

She shook her head quickly, ashamed of her thoughts and focused on the task at hand. Humming inwardly, she bent down and picked up the small end table she had bought from Ikea (Lack was its name. Simple and perfect for her prank). With outmost care she placed the table over his head. The table didn't weigh a lot and Sherlock's mattress was quite hard, so it didn't yield much.

Molly admired her perfect handiwork for a second, then she bent down again and picked up the airhorn. Opening the bedroom door for a quick escape, she placed and arm on her back, straightened and pushed the little red button of the can.

The shrill, deafening sound roared through the room, Sherlock was ripped out of his dreams brutally and wanted to jolt up. Unfortunately, Lack was in the way.

Molly snorted with laughter as she heard the loud _clonk!_ that was caused by Sherlock's forehead making contact with the wood.

"ARGH!"

Sherlock dropped back onto the mattress and his hands threw the end table off the bed. Molly bit her lips as the consulting detective held his head and had is eyes pressed close.

"Rise and shine, sweetheart!" Molly shouted.

Sherlock's eyes flew open and he saw the little witch with the air horn still in her hand, giving him a little wave and the most innocent of smiles.

"This time, you won't get away", Sherlock growled and jumped out of bed. Molly dashed for the door and Sherlock bolted after her.

She ran up the stairs and into her room, Sherlock stumbling after her, his head still spinning from the inpact.

Molly slammed the door shut and was about to lock it when Sherlock threw his whole body against the wood and it flew open, sending both of the inhabitants of 221b Baker Street to the floor. The pathologist made an attempt to get back on her feet when the hand of the consulting detective grabbed her ankle firmly and pulled her to the floor again.

Molly squealed and kicked her leg free and started crawling away, all the time giggling like a twelve-year-old. Sherlock's anger made this oh so much more amusing.

She managed to get to the other side of the bed and both of them stood up, only Molly's bed between them, on which Toby was still curled up into a ball, ignoring the humans. He had witnessed their behaviour for weeks now and was quite bored with it, not understanding human mating rituals at all.

Molly pressed her lips together as she saw the big red spot forming on Sherlock's forehead but burst into a quick laugh, anyway.

"That wasn't funny! I could have seriously hurt myself!"

"Afraid that I knocked down the mind palace?" Molly asked and grinned.

Sherlock, wearing an old grey t-shirt and dark blue pyjama pants, balled his hands into fists, his blazing blue eyes darting from left to right, obviously forming a plan to get a hold of her.

"Do me a favor", Molly stopped his train of thoughts, "do this."

She lifted her hand and twirled and imaginary beard.

"Why would I do such a thing?"

Molly grinned from one ear to another.

"It would be the perfect gesture to your new mustache. I've really outdone myself with it, I think. Permanent marker, of course."

"What?"

Sherlock whirled around to look into the mirror on Molly's closet. There was nothing. Just the huge red spot on his forehead.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw how Molly jumped on the bed, obviously trying to escape. But Sherlock was quick, whirled around again and bolted forward. He finally got his hands on her, locking them around her waist. Ignoring her squeal and her desperate but futile attemps to get free, he threw her down on the bed and followed suit, pinning her down on the mattress.

"Say you're sorry!" he commanded while Molly was laughing and squirming underneath him.

"Never", she spit back and turned her head to bite into his wrist.

"Argh! Quit the biting, already!" Sherlock complained but didn't let go of her hand. He simply spread her arms further so she couldn't reach them.

While Molly fought for her freedom, Sherlock grinned down on her, straddling her lap.

"This is really disappointing, Molly. I thought you'd be better."

She glared at him.

"I _am_ better."

As soon as the hiss left her throat, she turned her hip outward so she could pull out her legs underneath him. In one surprisingly elegant movement she tucked up her legs, stemmed her feet against his chest and pushed with all she had. Sherlock, surprised by her action, fell back on his knees. Molly tried to kick him off the bed, but he dogded her kick and wanted to threw himself onto her again, reaching for her wrists.

The bedsprings squeaked and Toby bounced up and down on the mattress while his human and the other one started the mating process. At least, that's what it looked like to Toby. The male towering over the struggling female, trying to fight him off. Through his half closed eyes he watched how they rolled around on the bed, tugging at each other's clothes, bending their extremities, one trying to dominate the other. When his human, the weaker but bendier one, succeeded and finally straddled the male's lap, Toby pitied him. No mating for him today.

"Ha ha!" Molly exclaimed triumphantly as she pushed Sherlock's wrists down on the mattress, his body buried underneath her, her knees sitting on his hips and her legs snaked around his thighs.

"Good enough for you, Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock struggled but her grip around his wrists was surprisingly strong. He looked up at her reddened face, her long brown hair framing her face, some of the strands having escaped the prison of the ponytail. Both of them were panting heavily and her breath hit his face. He very much tried to ignore her weight on his lap, a new and strangely exciting feeling.

"Using all of my repertoire on you would be unfair", he said hoarsly while his thoughts started to drift into a direction he dreaded and forbid himself very sternly.

"Oh, please. Your head is so red I can't even see the spot on your forehead anymore. Just admit that you got defeated by a girl, Sherlock."

He pressed his lips together and Molly smiled as she leaned in closer. Sherlock swallowed hard as her head was only inches away.

"Say it. Say that Molly Hooper beat you", she purred and a shiver ran up and down his spine.

What the heck was happening? Her sitting on top of him, her hot breath carressing his skin and her nails slightly scratching his wrists felt way too good to be right.

Panicing, he flipped them over in one swift, strong movement, thinking that this would be a better idea. What he did miss to consider was that now he was lying on top of her, her legs spread and still wrapped around his so that his pelvis rested on hers and he could feel...he could feel!

He jumped off of her immediately, mumbling some incoherent nonesense and fled out of her bedroom.

Molly's head fell back on the mattress and she closed her eyes. She tried to chain the desire that had been set free by this one second as Sherlock's weight had rested fully between her legs and she had felt...well, _him_.

She cursed and laid an arm over her eyes, willing her breath to slow down and her body to stop yearning for the body of Sherlock Holmes.

~oOo~

The atmosphere at 221b Baker Street was filled with discomfort for a day and a half. Then Sherlock came home after he had visited the crime scences of his current case once again to find Molly sleeping on the couch. Neither of them got a lot of sleep in the last few days because of the constant danger to get pranked.

Obviously Molly had let her guard down. This must be punished, Sherlock thought evily and got to work: He retrieved the dinghy he had once bought for a case (as so many times before, the police hadn't believed him so he had to go on the Themse by himself to claim the dead body of a minister that had gone missing and who had been strapped to the pillar of a bridge by his opponent to face a horrible death. Tedious work) and went into the bathroom, blew it up and attached a rubber hose to the bathtub to fill the dinghy with cold water.

After that was done, he carefully dragged it all the way from the bathroom to the living room, right in front of the couch. After one more look at the sleeping Molly (and trying very hard not to notice how pretty she was when her lips where slightly parted and her brown waves flowed around her like a veil), he walked to one side of the couch, put his hands under it and, using his legs, lifted it upwards.

Sleeping Molly rolled off the couch and into the little pool of cold water. The splash and the scream that followed were music in his ears. The pathologist bolted out of the water, her hair sticking to her face and her clothes (a red jumper and white pants) sticking to her body.

Sherlock chuckled and repeated her words from yesterday:

"Rise and shine, sweetheart!"

Molly threw an insult into his direction as she brushed the hair out of her face.

"No need to insult my mother, Molly. She has nothing to do with this."

"She brought you to this world, so everything you do is partly her fault."

"That's ridiculous."

Molly glared at him, sitting in the dinghy, soaking wet. Sherlock grinned.

"Just get me a towel, Sherlock."

"Since you asked so nicely..."

She shot him a dirty look and just as he was walking past her, she quickly grabbed his ankle and made him fall into the dinghy as well.

Molly laughed as Sherlock flailed his arms about before he emerged from the water, coughing and his curls sticking in his eyes. To calm him down she cupped his face and brushed his hair out of his eyes.

He glared at her for a moment, but her sweet smile and the touch of her hands - which felt burning hot after the cold water - made his heart beat faster and he couldn't do anymore than look at her face, watching how the driplets of water ran over her forhead, through her eyebrows, along her nasal bone and falling from the tip of her nose on her small red lips and disappearing in between them.

Molly did exactly the same, continuosly running her hands through his hair without even being aware of it, smiling even more at the little bump on his forehead.

As always, she felt so drawn to this beautiful, clever and impossible man that she could barely contain herself. She just wanted to be close to him, she thought, while she actually moved in closer until they shared the same ragged breath and Molly could see the little brown freckles in both his irises.

Sherlock looked at her then through heavy eyelids, his lips slightly parted. He didn't look mad or appalled and for one second Molly thought that he longed for her just as much as she longed for him...

...And then her bloody mobile started playing her special ringtone.

_**"Your brother's on the phone...Your brother's calling you...Your brother's on the phone, waiting patiently so he can tell you something new..."**_

Molly and Sherlock cleared their throats at the same time.

"I'm sorry...it's my brother."

"I guessed that much", Sherlock replied dryly and his eyes drifted down to her lips for another, very long second, then he leaned back and let her get out of the water and the dinghy.

As Sherlock watched her, taking a deep breath, he noticed how her clothes stuck to her body and the soaked white pants revealed the color of her bright red panties...lace.

Sherlock swallowed hard and quickly averted his eyes, getting out of the dinghy as well and hurried into the bathroom while Molly stood in the kitchen talking to her brother.

He shrugged off his shirt and threw it into the bathtub before he looked into the mirror. While his face was calm and expressionless, his insides were in uproar. Once again the longing for human companionship (_I don't want _her_. I just want another person, any woman would do. Not her escpecially. That would be ridiculous!_) dared to overwhelmed him and he pressed his eyes shut to fight this feeling down, to lock it back into the cabinet in his mind palace where it belonged.

But she was there when he closed his eyes. He found her in every room in his palace, his refuge, looking at him in the same tender way she just had done and he just couldn't delete that. So he fled his mind palace and slammed the door shut, blocking out all thought and just concentrating on getting the wet clothes off.

He wrapped a towel around his hips after drying himself, checked if Molly was still in the kitchen and went quickly into his room, not without stopping at the door and looking at her as he heard her soft laughter. He looked at her standing there and somehow he felt...sad. A subconscious part of him knew that, standing just a few feet away, something great was waiting for him. All he had to do was to reach out and he wouldn't be alone anymore...

The sad part was that he didn't dare to do it...

With one last look he stepped into his room and didn't come out for the rest of the day, spending hours on putting all the Mollys into her room (yes, of course she had a room. She had saved his life, after all!) and locked the door. He wanted to destroy the key but in the end he put it back under the pillow of his bed, just where it belonged and had been for several years.


	17. Prank War: Sleep interrupted

A/N: Hello everyone! Back I am. And I bring a long chapter! Isn't that great? :)

The usual thank-you before we start to the lovely people who take time out their lifes to leave me a review: MorbidbyDefault , whytejigsaw (look out for the 'waist'!;)), Rocking the redhead (most of my inspiration comes from Youtube. Now that we're almost through with the pranks, I think it's save to admit it ;)), Benedict-Addict Holmes (you know Sherlock. He's a little slow when it comes to feelings;)), ConstanceBoniful, cim902. Iggylnin20218 (I have to admit, Toby's thoughts are my favorite part about last chapter^^), a-lonesome-human (well, one baby step at a time. Sherlock is not easily broken. ;)), louvreangle (lol^^), TheFireSagittarius (that's so sweet of you. Thank you very much. It makes my day that you are reading it AND leave a review. Thanks!), Renaissancebooklover108, Numinous Wild, hermoine-amelia-rose1479, AdaYuki, pondCreature, apedarling, LadyJoa de Robinson, patemalah21 (thanks for your PM, btw. I'll answer it next. :)), Hakanii-chan (welcome to the fun;)), KraziiePyrosHavemorefun (couldn't agree more. I'll try to work that in in future chapters), Anatomydoc (yeah, finally someone spotted that^^. Couldn't resist. *hrhr*), Melody Starr31, Warrior-Maid-of-the-Shadows (that is such a cool name!:)), whimsical shadow and Kristina.

Another shoutout to MorbidbyDefault for the suggesting the cling-wrapping-someone-to-his-bed-prank. So cool! :)

* * *

That part of him that had itself divorced from feelings long ago insisted that now would be a good time to stop the pranking. It worried that – should they continue – Sherlock would get 'attached' to Molly Hooper in a way that would only get him in trouble. This part reminded him why he had himself divorced from feelings in the first place, that this had been done in order to protect himself and the people he might get attached to. It even dared to blame the pathologist's eyes for the ongoing murders without Sherlock being able to solve the case.

Sherlock listened to these accusations and arguments for some hours, but when the blamed woman strolled in from work and greeted him with the warmest of smiles or when she stood in the kitchen cooking for both of them, the inner ramblings were forgotten and he often found himself getting up and talking to her.

Another reason he convinced himself that this should go on was that he simply couldn't give up now. Not without her having the last triumph (she actually had dared to cut two big holes into his black pants, right in the height of his butt cheeks. He hadn't noticed it because he had been woken up rather brutally by Lestrade that morning, who had come personally to fetch him to inspect yet another crime scene [that's what he had said, but Sherlock knew exactly that he had only wanted to chat up Molly while he had been dressing], so he had jumped quickly into the cut trousers. Luckily, he had worn underpants that day so his butt cheeks weren't hanging out of his pants. And it could only be described as a blessing that he had put on his suit jacket and had never taken it off that day, for Molly did indeed let him go out like this. Only when he had come home that night and wanted to change into his pyjama pants did he notice the holes. Needless to say that he had been furious and that she had been very unimpressed by his rage, sitting at the table and sipping coffee, challenging him with her eyes to chase her through the flat again. He hadn't done it though, the memory of the events resulting from their last chase still vivid in his mind.).

No, Sherlock wanted to win this war. And it was fun. It wasn't so hard to admit that. He had great fun pranking her (and sometimes even being pranked was fun), so he silenced the warning voice inside him and found himself crouching in front of Molly's bed a couple of days later, the head of a male mannequin in his hand. He carefully peeked over the edge of the bed, checking if Molly was still asleep. Her back was facing him, but her breathing was deep and regular, so Sherlock got to work.

Carefully, he placed one of the pillows under the blanket. Then he placed the head on the other empty pillow next to her, face in her direction. He put the blanket over the neck to make it look more like a real person was lying in bed with her. His fingers tugged at the blanket until he was satisfied with the result. He crouched down again. A second later, the stick of a broom emerged from under the bed, slowly making its way into Molly's direction. With only one eye looking, Sherlock directed the stick to her bum and started to poke it with it. It took several attempts to get a reaction. Then she started to stir and Sherlock went into hiding, only able to hear how she turned around. A second of silence. Sherlock imagined how she opened her eyes to see the mannequin staring at her. How she needs a second to realize that she was lying in bed and that she usually slept alone…

A wicked smile washed over Sherlock's face as her scream echoed through the room.

"SHERLOCK!"

A loud thud declared that Molly had fallen out of bed and Sherlock laughed as he stood up and looked down at the pile of sheets and the blanket in which she must have been somewhere. Chuckling, he petted the mannequin's head and walked out of her room, head held high and a grin on his face.

He waited for her to come after him, but to his great disappointment she didn't. After some minutes he worried that she might had hit her head so he peeked into her bedroom again. She was still sitting on the floor, back against the bed, her head in her hands.

Must have been a big shock, Sherlock thought wickedly.

Then she sobbed and the sound of it wiped the grin right off his face.

Molly was crying.

Sherlock was confused.

"Why are you crying?"

She cried some more.

"Molly?"

"Go away", she managed to say between sobs.

Sherlock rounded the bed to stand beside her.

"Is this the shock?"

"Leave me alone."

"It's just a prank, Molly. No need to get all worked up about this."

Molly's head shot up and her eyes were puffy.

"Do you think that's funny?"  
Sherlock didn't understand.

"You crossed a line, Sherlock. Making me believe that Jim was in my bed…"

She shivered and Sherlock's eyes widened.

"…That's not funny."

While she buried her head in her hands and continued to cry, Sherlock's eyes darted to the mannequin.

Fully awake, this head looked nothing like James Moriarty. But he could see that a person, still half-asleep, could mistake this face with the dead criminal.

Another sob reached Sherlock's ears and before he knew what he was doing, he knelt beside her.

"Molly, I'm sorry. I didn't see the resemblance. I swear it wasn't my intention to make you think that this was Moriarty."

Molly was actually shaking and now he understood that she had called out his name to come to her rescue, not because she had known it had been his doing.

Feeling really bad seeing her like this, Sherlock decided to pull her into his arms. Molly instantly wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck.

"I'm sorry, Molly", Sherlock mumbled into her hair and started rocking her back and forth. It just felt like the right thing to do.

"For a second I really thought he had come back for me…", Molly whispered.

Sherlock swallowed hard.

"He's dead. He can't hurt you."

"I know…but I can't help it. Sometimes I have dreams…"

She shivered again.

"I see you fall, even though I never saw you falling. And then there is Jim's face, grinning like the devil himself and he points at me, mouthing 'You're next'."

Sherlock noticed how Molly's arms let go of his neck and he hugged her even tighter.

"They're only dreams, Molly. I'm alive and he's gone. And even if he wasn't, I'd never allow him to lay a hand on you. I'd kill him if he tried."

"Really?"

She looked up at him now, her eyes big and soft and scared and hopeful, all at once.

Sherlock's heart beat faster, the thought that Moriarty could have hurt Molly to get to him was tightening his chest. He nodded then and their gazes locked.

Molly felt so fragile and vulnerable and all he wanted to do in that moment was to hold her, protect her from harm and never let her go.

"That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me. Now I'm almost sorry…"

His brows furrowed in confusion. Her eyes were still captivating his and he couldn't think clearly.

Molly had counted on that and from one second to another, her vulnerable expression changed into a Cheshire cat's grin and before Sherlock could react, she locked her small hand around his slender neck to hold him in place as she smeared Wasabi cream all over his mouth with the other hand.

Sherlock was more shocked about the sudden change of the pathologist than about the pain that roared inside his mouth caused by the load of Wasabi that had been pressed through his lips.

While Molly quickly jumped up on the bed and rolled over it to the other side, Sherlock started cringing and hurried to wipe the green cream off with her sheet. He coughed and rubbed the sheet over his tongue next, his lips and the insides of his mouth now burning like hell.

While he was struggling to cope with the pain, Molly had a good laugh.

"I thought I would never be able to use that on you."

He looked up at her, tears streaming down his reddened cheeks and he coughed some more, which ruined the death glare he wanted to throw at her.

Molly picked up the fake head and took a closer look.

"Like this would fool me into thinking he was Jim." She snorted and placed the head on her apothecary cabinet, turning him to face Sherlock in order to mock the consulting detective who had gotten pranked once again.

Molly laughed again.

"You were eating it all up! Me, being the scared little doe that needed protection. Is this how you still see me after all these years? Well, in your defense, my brothers fell for it almost every time, too. Even in the 21st century guys like to believe that girls are weak and need to be rescued, don't they?"

She looked at him, hands on her hips, demanding an answer while Sherlock was still busy coughing, cringing and wiping his tongue with the sheet.

Molly rolled her eyes.

"Fine. You stay there. I'll get you a glass of milk and some bread."

When she was gone, Sherlock stopped the act and quickly searched for the tube that clearly must be somewhere around. He found it in the pile of sheets and let it slip inside his pocket just in time. Molly carried a tray into the bedroom and placed it on her bed. Sherlock instantly reached for it, coughing again and swallowing the cool milk down in one big gulp. He ate the bread and heard Molly chuckle as she looked down on him.

He finally threw her the death glare and got it answered with a wicked smile.

"Just surrender and be done with it", Molly said gently, her hair still in wild disarray from sleep.

"Never", Sherlock croaked.

She only sighed and lay back on the bed, her head near his.

"I'm so bloody tired. Why do you have to keep steeling my sleep?"

She closed her eyes. It would have been the perfect opportunity, but he thought it very pathetic to play the same prank on her just a few minutes later. Instead, he sat down with his back against the bed, just like she had done before, and rested his head against the edge of the mattress. They were so close now that her straight brown hair and his black curls mingled. He heard her steady breathing and closed his eyes as well.

"You steel mine all the time, too."

He heard her giggle.

"You're just so adorable when you're sleeping. Like a little boy."

He snorted and she giggled once more.

"Can't we stop pranking each other at night? We both need our sleep."

Sherlock snorted again.

"Nice try. I'm not trusting you anymore after that nice demonstration of your deceitfulness."

"Thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment!"

"It sounded like one."

"Oh, just be quiet."

Molly giggled again, then it fell silent in her bedroom. They were indeed very tired after those weeks of pranking each other and both of them dozed off a bit.

In his half-sleep, Sherlock was drawn to the source of warmth Molly provided and soon enough his forehead rested against hers. He was aware of that, but was too sleepy to start his usual panic caused by intimate physical contact. To be very honest, he enjoyed being like this very much. Intimacy was such a rare thing in his world that he decided to make an exception and just enjoyed snoozing with his skin touching hers, feeling her warmth and breathing in her scent. Later he would think of this half hour as one of the most peaceful moments in his entire life…

~oOo~

The harmony at 221b Baker Street was destroyed by Molly's alarm clock. While Sherlock awoke fully, Molly only made a sound of displeasure, reached out to push the snooze button but only hit air, let it fall on the mattress in the end and simply refused to wake up.

Sherlock straightened up a little and turned his head to look at the sleeping pathologist. Her face was serene, her small lips slightly parted. Her hair poured down the mattress like a waterfall and Sherlock felt an itch in his fingers to reach out and touch it. It looked so soft and silky…

His eyes widened as he realized that he was actually reaching out and stopped his hand in mid-air.

That was exactly what was not supposed to happen, he scolded himself, and he jumped to his feet, rounded the bed and turned off the annoying alarm.

"Molly, wake up."

Just as those words left his mouth, Toby came waltzing in, meowing loudly. He jumped onto the bed and started his usual routine of waking up his human, which included loud meows into her ear and walking over her body several times. Sherlock watched this routine and Molly's reaction in amusement. At first she moaned and turned her head away, causing Toby to halt in his actions and check if she had opened her eyes only to continue a second later when he saw that her eyes were still closed.

Then her lips twitched as Toby started to gnaw on her fingers. In a swift movement, she curled her arm around him and locked the feline into an embrace. He complained with a loud meow and struggled to get free. Molly let him go and Toby jumped off the bed, still complaining loudly.

Just before Molly opened her eyes, Sherlock walked out of her room and silently walked down the stairs, petting Toby's head who was sitting at the foot of the stairs, waiting impatiently for his human to finally feed him.

~oOo~

As Sherlock had predicted, Molly didn't stop pranking him at night. Neither did he. For the dear reader's amusement, let's make a short list what the flatmates did to each other almost every night:

- A fake rat in Molly's bed

- Cling-wrapping Sherlock to the bed (it took him almost an hour to free himself)

- Waking Molly by setting off jumper crackers in a pot

- Spreading some cream on Sherlock's face and let Toby lick it off (Molly ignored the sounds of pleasure Sherlock made in his half-sleep)

- Scaring Molly by roaring a chainsaw to life and wearing a clown mask (Sherlock stopped being gentle with her)

- Pouring cool water with ice cubes in it over Sherlock's head (she had planned to put new sheets on his bed, anyway)

- Smashing an ice cream cone into face

- Playing the sound of a machine gun next to his ear with her mobile (Sherlock flinched like a million times. Hilarious)

- Throwing snow balls at her (Sherlock would never tell her where he got those in late spring)

- Shooting cap bombs at him with a slingshot and when he jumps out of bed to get her, he steps into the mouse traps she had spread throughout the room

- Screeching with the violin

- Airhorn (Molly brings back the classics)

- Loud noises in general

However, when the ninth dead body was found at Hyde Park, Sherlock was being approached by Molly one morning before she went off to work, wearing her jacket and carrying her handbag (if you could call it that) already. Even though he concentrated on the map of London, marked with the crime scenes and the location of the shops where the murderer had retrieved the paper and had let them printed, he could see how she wrung her hands nervously out of the corners of his eyes.

"Sherlock?" she asked in her usual soft voice.

"Hm?"

He remained in his position: Strong stand, hands steepled under his chin.

"Could I talk to you for a minute? If I'm not interrupting you, of course."

"You _are_ interrupting me."

Sherlock knew he could be straight forward with her. He always had been, and always would be. He knew she could handle it (_no, don't think of _that_ Christmas now!_)

"Oh, sorry. I…I'll talk to you tonight then."

Always putting him first, always giving him what he needed.

Sherlock sighed.

"Just get out with it. And no stammering. Time is essential."

She turned around again and cleared her throat as she saw that she had his full attention now. She tried to come over the fact that he looked absolutely fantastic in his black suit and the white shirt quickly, one hand casually in his pocket, and say what needed to be said.

"That's exactly why I want to talk to you…I think it would be best to stop the Prank War."

This had obviously taken him by surprise, for he stiffened for a second, blinking a few times.

"Why?"

Molly, could be wrong, but Sherlock looked…was it sadness she saw in his eyes?

She crossed the distance between them and pointed at the map.

"That's why. There are people dying out there, Sherlock. You need to be able to work properly. And I think our war is hindering you."

"Are you suggesting that your pranks are able to break my concentration? If that's the case, you are seriously overrating your powers."

She shook her head quickly and lifted her hands in defense.

"No, of course not…But you're tired, Sherlock. You need sleep."  
"I've gotten a lot less sleep during a case before."

"You have bags under your eyes, Sherlock."

"So do you."

"And I _am_ tired!"

Sherlock only huffed. Molly sighed.

"Look, I know you are brilliant and no one believes in you more than I do, not even John…", Sherlock noticed how her cheeks reddened and his heart did a little flip, "…I just don't want to be in your way."

"Don't be ridiculous. You're never in my way", Sherlock started and went back into his previous position, "I hardly notice you."

It started out so well, but of course Sherlock had to turn this into a hurtful comment. Molly looked at him for a moment, hoping that realization would dawn on him, but of course it didn't.

"No, you never do", was her weak reply before she turned around and left without another word.

Her remark got Sherlock to think, though, and he finally understood that he had hurt her again.

"Silly woman. It was obvious I didn't mean it that way", he said sulkily to the skull before he went back to work, locking the thoughts about her and the feeling of guilt away.

~oOo~

Sherlock was on her tired mind for most of the day. That wasn't an unusual thing, of course. Mr. Holmes was a constant in her thoughts, he was everywhere and he had been for years, so most days she hardly noticed it. Only on those days when he mocked her or said stupid things like this morning was she painfully aware that his shadow was in every corner of her consciousness and it was bloody hard to stop thinking about him, then. No need to say that she messed up her work and files, scolding herself every time for letting that stupid remark get to her. She really should be used to it by now.

Molly phoned up Mary to ask her out for a drink or two (_two, definitely two!_),just to be home later, but her best friend had planned a romantic night with John (_when Mary says romantic, she most probably means to watch a horror movie and to 'get cracking' afterwards. John will agree to the last part, but he hates those movies_). For a brief moment Molly thought about calling Greg, but decided against it. She didn't want to make his wife get jealous for no reason. Their relationship was fragile enough as it was.

So Molly went back to Baker Street after she had finished her shift at 9 p.m. She yawned several times while she climbed the stairs. The tiredness was another constant in her life at the moment and she cheered herself up by thinking that she could fall into her bed within the next minutes.

Molly threw her bag onto the floor and hung her jacket before she went into the kitchen to get a bottle of water when she noticed Sherlock standing in the doorway to the living room.

"Hi", she greeted him faintly and opened the fridge.

"You were right", Sherlock started and Molly turned around with the bottle in her hand, closing the fridge.

"What do you mean?"

"I need sleep."

Molly let out a relieved breath.

"We'll call it a truce, then."

"No."

He pulled out handcuffs from his pocket and Molly's eyes widened.

"You're not seriously planning on cuffing me so you can be sure I don't prank you in your sleep, are you?"

"Indeed I am."

He walked over to her and grabbed her hand. Molly was too tired to react fast enough to unwind her hand from his grasp and the hand cuffs clicked shut around her wrist.

"Sherlock, this is ridiculous."

"Do you have to use the bathroom before bed?"

"What? No! Yes, actually, but I'm not letting you cuff me to my bed. This is going too far, for heaven's sake."

Sherlock ignored her completely, took the bottle and pushed her into the bathroom and shut the door.

Molly stood there for a second, gazing at the door and then on the handcuffs dangling from her right wrist, calculating her chances of not getting cuffed to her bed. Sherlock looked pretty determined and Molly realized her chances were slim. Yawning again, she found it hard to care much. She just wanted to sleep.

Should he cuff her to the bed, she thought while she took care of her business and brushed her teeth, as long as she got a peaceful night out of it.

So without further struggling, she let Sherlock take her wrist as she stepped out of the bathroom and expected to be let upstairs. Instead, Sherlock directed her to the living room.

Just as she was about to ask why on earth he was doing that, Sherlock snapped the other cuff shut around his own wrist. Molly blinked and stared at him for almost ten second.

"I don't understand."

"That's because of the sleep deprivation. I don't trust you, so the only way of me getting sleep is keeping you close. Close, but under control."

She snorted.

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I'm an adult, Sherlock. I will manage to stop myself from playing pranks at you."  
"I doubt it."

"I'm the one who offered the truce, dammit!"

"You can rant and rave as much as you want, but it will only delay both of us getting some sleep."

Molly looked down at the couch.

"Why on the couch? There will be more space in one of our beds."

Damn it, even in her sleep deprived state she managed to blush.

"And there will be more opportunities for your mischief. No, the couch is the most logical solution."

Molly wanted to object, but Sherlock already kicked off his shoes and sat down on the couch, fluffing up the pillow before he laid down. He looked up at her expectantly but she couldn't move. She was fully awake now at the prospect of sleeping with her body pressed against his, and swallowed hard. She blushed some more, Sherlock saw it and only rolled his eyes before he pulled back his cuffed arm and with that pulled Molly down onto the couch.

"I won't touch you inappropriately, if this is what worries you."

Molly kicked off her shoes as well, her cheeks flaming red.

"No, of course not. You touching me is the last thing I worry about."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

Angry now, Molly laid down on the couch, her back to him. There wasn't much space, but Molly tried to avoid touching him as much as possible, but Sherlock had to drape his arm over her because of their cuffs and his hand accidently grazed her breast.

Both of them stiffened immediately and it was dead silent for a moment.

"You…", Sherlock cleared his throat, "you have to come closer."

"No, thanks", she hissed and moved her arm until his arm was lying on her waist.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the beautiful man behind her, the hint of warmth that was hitting her back and the hot breath on her bare neck. It took a very long time to make her heart beat normally again, but the weariness was a big help to finally relax and ignore Sherlock, who had his eyes squeezed shut as well…

~oOo~

Martha Hudson, the ever polite and discreet landlady of 221b Baker Street, was carefully putting the fresh-baked muffins into a basket whilst humming a cheerful tune. She had made them especially for Sherlock. He was looking horrible at the moment and Mrs. Hudson thought that that horrible case was wearing him out. She was in fact a bit angry with Molly, thinking that the pathologist did nothing to pamper him, to make his life a little easier at such a stressful time and she even started to believe that Molly didn't feel for him anymore, which was a pity, really.

Maybe moving in with the man hadn't been such a good idea after-all, because Mrs. Hudson knew first-hand what a pain he could be.  
Still, the elderly lady loved him dearly and was going to miss his quirkiness when she was off to Australia for good.

She had thought Molly would fill her void and take care of him, but maybe she had misjudged her as a caretaker, Mrs. Hudson mused while she stepped out of her flat and climbed the stairs to 221b.

Her train of thoughts came to an abrupt halt after she had placed the basket on the kitchen table and turned around to leave silently. Her mouth fell open and she couldn't help but gape at the scene before her:  
The first ray of sunshine had made its way into the living room and illuminated the couch on which Sherlock and Molly were still sound asleep. Martha was at the edge of pinching herself as she saw Sherlock's arms wrapped around Molly, holding her in a tight embrace with his body melted into hers. Tears of joy filled her eyes as she saw Sherlock's peaceful face, his head lying in the crook of Molly's neck, his breathing blowing a strand of her hazelnut hair up and down. Both of them looked so peaceful in that moment that Martha wanted to cry and jubilate at the same time, ever so happy for them. Her faith in Molly and Sherlock being the perfect couple was instantly renewed and with a blissful smile on her face she allowed herself to watch her boy being all happy and serene for another moment before she hurried down the stairs again, careful to make no sound.

~oOo~

It took almost two more hours before Sherlock and Molly woke up. He woke up first, the strand of her hair tickling his nose. The first thing his awakening senses recognized was an unknown warmth. Different from a hot bath or anything else he had ever felt. It felt amazing and for a second all he wanted to do was to bury himself in that warmth again and sleep forever. But logic told him that he shouldn't be that warm and more of his senses got activated and he inhaled a scent that he would recognize everywhere immediately.

_Molly…_

Sherlock's eyes fluttered opened.

Within a second, his body flared to life and he felt every inch of where their bodies touched, which was almost everywhere. His heart hammered against his chest as he felt so much of the woman that was Molly Hooper.

He was still holding her in that tight embrace, afraid she might wake when he moved. He wasn't ready to face her, yet. He had to catalogue his feelings and observations first. How her hair felt against his cheek (he had known it would be soft, but this was just incredible), how his lips were touching her soft skin (his mouth was placed on her long neck and he had to fight the urge to kiss that skin), how it felt having her in his arms, her breathing rising and letting her chest fall (her arms were entangled with his like she didn't want him to let go of her), how deliciously her bum was pressed against his groin (_no, better don't catalogue _that_ feeling. Just make a note 'her bum is hot and firm' and move on before your body starts reacting_) and how their legs were intertwined (_like we couldn't get close enough to each other_).

Never had he been so close to anyone in his adult life. The last time he had been that close to someone was at the age of twelve when it was one of those rare moments when his mum and him were alone and they could cuddle on the sofa, she reading a book to him. And that couldn't be compared to this situation. Not. At. All.

Sherlock lifted his head and looked at their entwined bodies before his eyes settled on her face. She really was a beautiful woman. It wasn't an obvious beauty, more subtle, more simple, yet even more special in its own way.

_What the hell are you thinking?_, he scolded himself and understood that he had entered dangerous waters by making her sleep with him, especially in this confined space. It had been a bad idea. Really, really bad…

_Then why are you not moving?_

Legitimate question.

He should probably answer that one.

…

…

_Just a few more minutes…_


	18. The case of the missing key

A/N: Soo sorry it took so long. This chapter was a pain! I'm not at all satisfied, but what the heck. *internal screaming*

Oh, before I forget: Patemalah21 was the inspiration for this chapter. Hope you like it! :)

And thanks for all the lovely reviews I got. You all are great and I am so happy that you like this story. :)

So, where have we left of? Right, Sherlock and Molly are lying on the couch, he fully awake, experiencing (possibly for the first time) how it felt to have a woman in his arms. Oh yeah, and Mrs. Hudson brought a basket of muffins and saw them. Aaand on we go:

* * *

Molly awoke half an hour later while Sherlock tried to untangle himself from her. When she stirred, Sherlock quickly pulled out the arm from underneath her and brought some distance between them. His heart beat surprisingly fast. He felt like he had taken advantage of her, cuddling (he felt sick as that that word crossed his mind) her without her permission. To be honest, he felt like a little boy for a second who had played with himself and his mother burst into to room, seeing everything (yup, this had happened to him. No need to explain that this experience had changed his life).

Molly wanted to rub the sleep out of her eyes, but her arm was still chained to Sherlock's. The rattling of the handcuffs brought back the memory of the last night.

"Oh, right", she mumbled and was instantly awake.

Both of them laid still for a second, not sure what to do. Sherlock out of guilt, Molly out of insecurity.

She peeked over her shoulder to find him staring at her.

"Morning", she whispered, her voice still heavy with sleep.

"Good morning", Sherlock replied, making his own voice sound sleepy so she wouldn't know that he had held her in his arms not only in his sleep all through the night, but also fully awake, for almost half an hour, listening to her flat, regular breathing and absorbing the warmth of her delicate body.

"Did you get some sleep?" she asked and both of them sat up. He watched her out of the corners of his eyes, how she brushed her hair using her fingers and massaged her shoulder with her free arm. Sherlock wondered if she could smell him on her skin and clothes, for he could definitely smell her. If she did, she didn't show.

"Yes, it was a satisfying rest."

She looked at him with a frown and he knew exactly why. Even to him this sentence sounded unnecessarily stiff and complicated.

Sherlock quickly cleared his throat and stood up. She followed suit and together they walked into the kitchen, or better said they were about to when Sherlock spotted the basket with muffins and froze, causing Molly to bump into his back.

"What's wrong?" she asked, peeking around his shoulder.

In Sherlock's mind, everything went wild:

_Where did the basket come from?_

_- Mrs. Hudson. She likes to bake and she knows he loves her blueberry muffins. She had eyed him very closely the other day, most probably noticed how exhausted he was, and her motherly nature had commanded her to do something good for him. _

_When did she bring them (and this question was essential)?_

_- Taking in consideration the scent of the baked goods, which had spread in the entire kitchen, a few hours ago._

_Which can only mean what?_

_- ...Bugger!_

"Oh, yum!" Molly exclaimed, rounded him and was about to grab a muffin when Sherlock pulled his arm back, causing her to stumble into him, placing her hands on his chest for a moment.

Molly's eyes widened and Sherlock was now fit enough to panic again, so he quickly stepped away from her.

"Can you please free me now? I'm hungry", Molly said after she had cleared her throat.

Sherlock, avoiding her eyes, looked around the messy kitchen table for the key. Some muffins had fallen out of the basket, somehow. He lifted it, pushed papers and the little help notes he had managed to 'borrow' from the crime scenes to the side, but without success. No key.

"Hm."

"What?"

Molly had been busy drooling over the muffins and had only moved her arm for his convenience.

Sherlock swept the table clean with both arms – Molly managed to get a hold of the basket before it crashed to the floor – and listened for the metallic sound of the key hitting the ground…nothing.

"I'm not cleaning that up", was Molly's only comment and she reached for a muffin again only to have her arm pulled away in the last second.

Sherlock dragged Molly through the kitchen, looking into every drawer and cabinet, then into the living room, checking the chair, the desk, the coffee table, the couch, everything. Still, no key. All the while, Molly made several attempts to get her hands on one of these delicious smelling muffins, but every single one of them was destroyed by another yank on her arm.

When Sherlock was pulling at her arm again to swipe the next room, Molly had enough. She yanked at his arm for a change and made him look at her.

"First of all: Hold still!"

She grabbed a muffin and finally dug her teeth into it. Munching and swallowing quickly, not without uttering a sound of pure pleasure, she continued.

"Second: Please don't tell me you've deleted where you put the key."

"Of course I didn't delete it! It has been on the kitchen table. But it's not here anymore, so someone must have put it elsewhere."

"Like who?"

"From the evidence so far: Mrs. Hudson."

"Why would she do that?"

Sherlock felt a blush creeping up his cheek and he quickly turned his head, scanning the living room.

"I have no idea."

"Yes, you do. I can see when you lie."

He snorted.

"No, you don't…Maybe she put it in my room in an attempt to tidy up. Let's go."

Molly raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

"Is this some kind of prank? Was this all a scheme to get me cuffed to you?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Just get it over with, then. I have to go to work in an hour. And I'd like to take a shower before that."

_Shower?!_

Sherlock's alarm bells went off.

"It's not a prank! If you will cooperate, the sooner I will be able to free us…and put that bloody basket down!" he commanded impatiently before he dragged her into his room.

Molly wasn't very helpful during the search. Well, in her defense, she couldn't be. Chained to an impatient (we don't use the word 'panicky' when it comes to the great consulting detective) Sherlock wasn't giving her many possibilities to move around. She could only do so much as to search the drawers next to the ones Sherlock was currently looking through. And he forbade her to do even that when she accidently discovered his underwear (surprisingly very different styles in various colors). So she leaned back and let the detective search on his own, humoring herself by stating how much time was left for her to get ready.

That he really couldn't find the keys wasn't even a possibility for her. He was Sherlock Holmes. Of course he would find them. He found everything!

Yet, half an hour later and his room being a total mess, there still was no key.

"Sherlock, this isn't funny anymore. I really have to get ready now or I'll be late. And I don't want to be late. Just prank me already."

"It's not a prank!"

"Oh come on! As if you wouldn't find out immediately where Mrs. Hudson put the key that would free you from me!"

Ignoring Molly, Sherlock went through the possibilities of the events that may have caused the key to get lost. He took another look at the mental pictures he had made of the kitchen table with the basket on it, paying more attention to three muffins that had been laying on the table…

He froze and Molly frowned.

"What now?"

"Toby!"

"What?"

But Sherlock was already running back into the hallway, Molly stumbling after him.

Toby was currently sitting in Sherlock's chair, cleaning himself.

As Sherlock started yelling at him, Toby stopped mid-way, his tongue still sticking to his furry paw. His yellow eyes looked up and his ears twitched in annoyance.

"He swallowed the key!"

"Yeah, right!"

"It's the only logical answer! He had seen the muffins and must have eaten some, accidently swallowing the little key!"

"He did not! Cats chew."

"Not your cat. He's a wolverine!"

"Stop insulting my cat!"

"Just look at him!"

"Oh, this is ridiculous!"

"I'll prove it to you."

Sherlock dragged Molly over to the coffee table. He turned the basket and inspected the muffins, looking for a proof.

"There you go", he said and picked one of them up, showing it to Molly. A big chunk was bitten out of it. Just as Molly was about to say something, Toby jumped off the chair.

Both humans looked down at the feline with the big eyes for a moment. When Toby started to gag, Molly panicked.

"Oh my God, he swallowed the key! We have to go to the vet!"

"Like this?"

Sherlock said and held up the cuffed arm. Toby gagged again.

"I wouldn't care if we were naked right now, Sherlock! Toby has a metal key in his stomach and is in pain!"

Molly cooed at Toby who was lying on all fours now, then she stormed up to her room to get his transport box. Sherlock was surprised at her strength, she yanked at his arm and forced him to go with her, if he wanted to or not. But he wouldn't have dared to protest now, with Molly worrying about her cat's wellbeing. And Toby was clearly in pain, gagging and not able to throw up. The sounds he made were horrible and he truly felt for the cat. While Molly tried to get Toby in the box – which wasn't easy with his cramping body -, Sherlock texted Mycroft.

**Molly's cat is dying. Need a car and priority service at the clinic. Will be down in a minute.**

With Sherlock's help, Molly finally managed to get the cat in the box and while she whispered words of reassurance to the feline, they hurried down the stairs. The car was waiting for them.

Molly didn't protest as Sherlock gestured her to get in and as soon as they were in their seats, the car slid into traffic and drove as fast as possible. All the lights on their way were green.

Molly stroke Toby's cheek carefully through the bars, not stopping to whisper words of love to him. Sherlock watched this scene in awe. He had never seen her this worried, tears pricking in her eyes, her hands shaking. He wanted to do something to comfort her, but he didn't know what was appropriate in this situation. He wasn't very good in comforting other people and he feared that he might upset her even more. So he remained silent but ,without looking at her, he linked his fingers with hers, holding them tight.

When they arrived at the animal hospital, they were already waiting for them. They took the box out of Molly's hands and rushed off with him.

"Miss Hooper? Could you please fill out the forms for Toby?" the receptionist asked carefully, sympathy in her eyes. Molly only nodded and reached for the clipboard, yanking at Sherlock's arm. The handcuffs clanked and were clearly visible. The receptionists eyes widened for a second. She blushed and cleared her throat.

"I am sure he will be fine. I'll tell Doctor Ramonez that he's looking for a key."

She turned to make the call and Molly only nodded, taking the clipboard and sitting down on one of the chairs in the waiting area. Several people were there, all of them staring at the handcuffs and their rumbled appearance (they hadn't have time to change and Sherlock's hair was even messier than Molly's). Molly seemed totally oblivious of it, but Sherlock indeed wasn't. He noticed every twitch of an eyebrow and every curling up of lips. One teenage boy didn't even try to hide his chuckle and he even dared to wink at him. Sherlock gave him a death glare. The boy lowered his eyes back to his mobile, but didn't wipe the smug grin off his face.

They waited for almost an hour when the doctor finally came to give them the news. Molly and Sherlock stood up from their seats.

"Your cat is well, just sleeping off the narcosis. I think you need that."

He held out the key and Sherlock grabbed it, ignoring the smile forming on the doctor's lips, and lifted up their arms to free them.

"Thank you so much, Doctor", Molly said as her arm was free and she rubbed her wrist.

"No worries. But I would recommend to put the key on the bedside table when you're about to play and not next to a blueberry muffin."

"We didn't…"

"Yes, of course. We will", Molly cut Sherlock off and the consulting detective looked at her with wide eyes. Wasn't she about to correct him? Didn't she understand that they all assumed that they had been involved in some sort of sexual game?!

Obviously, she didn't, because after the doctor had given her medication for Toby and instructed her to keep him in the box so he wouldn't move too much, she only asked the doctor if she could wait with him until he woke up.

"Certainly. Follow me."

Sherlock was about to follow them, when he heard the boy behind him:

"Congrats, pal. My girlfriend doesn't do any of that kinky stuff. She's a keeper."

It took all the self-control he had to not whirl around and yell at that brat. Instead, he took a deep breath and hurried after Molly and the doctor, ignoring the boy's snicker.

Sherlock was pacing up and down the room while Molly sat next to the still sleeping Toby, gently stroking his fur.

"Thank you", she suddenly said and made him stop.

"For what?"

"For taking care of everything."

Molly looked over to him and gave him a smile that made his heart do a little flip. He quickly cleared his throat.

"No worries. It was Mycroft, not me. I only sent a text."

Molly nodded and looked at her cat again.

"You probably think it's silly to care about an animal, don't you?"

"I think it's silly to attach oneself to a creature that does have such a low life expectancy."

She smiled and Sherlock looked at both of them for a second.

"But I understand that you feel obliged to your pet. He is a smart cat. Hoggish, but smart."

Molly laughed and the sound of it caused Toby to stir. He slowly awoke, obviously drowsy, so Molly put him carefully into the box.

They walked to the reception to settle the bill, but the woman said that it had already been taken care of.

"I have to pay back Mycroft, then", Molly said to Sherlock as he hailed down a cab.

"No need to bother. He doesn't need your money. I am sure he will find some other way you can repay him soon enough."

When they were sitting in the car, driving back to 221b, Molly finally could take a deep breath and let the events of the morning pass her by. She just had closed her eyes when she gasped.

"Shit! I totally forgot about work!"

Sherlock, knowing the brilliance of his brother all too well, checked his mobile and wasn't disappointed to find a text from Mycroft, sent an hour ago.

**Miss Hooper has called in sick with migraine for the rest of the week. You better explain about the handcuffs, dear brother.**

He showed the text to Molly. She giggled.

"Your brother thinks of everything, doesn't he? Say thank you from me, will you?"

Molly leaned back in her seat while Sherlock sent the quick text.

"Phew, what a morning. I'm starving."

"Are you oblivious to the fact that everyone at the clinic thought we had some kind of bondage-sex-game going on, and my brother most probably, too?"

Molly only rolled her eyes.

"People think what they want to think, Sherlock. The more you tell them 'no', the more they think 'yes'. You know that as well as I do. And considering your brother, I don't believe that he thinks that. He knows you too well."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You know."

"I do not."

She sighed and tried to ignore him, but she should have known better.

"Answer me."

She sighed again.

"Your brother is only teasing you. He knows that you're not interested in…this kind of thing. Sex and all."

Molly blushed and turned to look out of the window.

Sherlock had the feeling that she had meant to say something else and he looked at her as they drove back to Baker Street in silence, all the while remembering the sensational feeling of her body in his arms.

~oOo~

Molly spent her time exclusively with Toby the following days, so there was no chance for pranks. Sherlock rarely saw her, only when she came down to get something to drink or to take a muffin (they were still feasting on them. There were loads). It was the perfect time to conduct experiments and to focus entirely on the case.

Instead, he found the thought of her lingering in the back of his mind while he was working. It was awfully quiet and peaceful. He had to be on constant vigilance the last week and from one moment to another, that was gone. The discomfort of that was similar to the aftertaste of finishing a case followed. At first it was mostly satisfying, but then the silence around him got unbearable.

So he buried himself in his case, going through everything one more time, even though he had done this already countless of times. Still, he failed to see the connection. All the information he needed was right there in front of him, but he couldn't see it. At one point, he got so frustrated that he wanted to grab the mirror on which the map and the post-its where sticking to and throw it out of the window. He needed a distraction so badly that he was seriously considering pranking Molly while she was nursing her cat. But the doorbell prevented that from happening.

Sherlock went down the stairs for a change, not waiting for Molly to come down, and opened the door. His mood darkened even more as he saw the blonde in front of him.

"Oh, you're home", Mary said and couldn't sound more disappointed.

"Brilliant observation, Ms. Morstan", Sherlock replied and blocked the way.

Mary only raised an eyebrow, then she looked him up and down, just like he used to do it.

"Not getting any further in your case, I see."

Sherlock's eyelids twitched. Mary smirked.

"Your eyes are a little reddened from staring at the same spot over a longer period of time. Your thighmuscles aretensed up from holding the same pose for…what, three and half hours? Same with your arms. And…" Mary bent her knees a little to peek under his chin, "…you have a red dot right there where you steepled your hands, pushing your middle fingers into the skin under your chin."

For almost a minute, the detective and the electrician stared at each other. Or better said, Sherlock glared and Mary smiled smugly.

Mary really tried to win this one, but she was an impatient person and standing on the doorstep she felt rather ridiculous.

"Could we please skip the friendly banter? As you know, I'm here to see Molly and the cat."

"His name is Toby."

Sherlock had no idea why he had said that. He truly regretted it, now that he saw the amused glint in Mary's eyes.

"Is that so? And there I thought you wouldn't care about Molly's pet, you know, being a robot and all."

He narrowed his eyes and straightened to tower over her. Mary just snorted at that attempt to scare her and simply pushed him out of the way. Sherlock let it happen.

"You can't scare me, Mr. Holmes. I'm an electrician. I understand machines. If you need maintenance, just give me a call. I'll give you a special discount."

With a sly grin in his direction she walked up the stairs.

Sherlock suppressed the need to reply. He knew in the end, he would be the bad guy and everyone would be mad at _him_.

"Come in", Molly turned around on her bed in surprise. Sherlock hadn't showed up here ever since they had come back from the hospital. She smiled as she saw Mary enter the room.

"Hey you."

"Mary! What a lovely surprise. What are you doing here?"

Mary shrug off her leather jacket and knelt down next to the bed.

"Just wanted to check up on the little monster here. Can I touch him?"

"Sure", Molly said and smiled at how gently Mary stroke Toby's head only with her index finger until he started to purr.

"How do you know about Toby?"

Mary fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"John of course. Sherlock told him."

Molly was stunned.

"Why?"

"John thinks he wanted me to visit you, but an honorable intention like that doesn't really scream 'Sherlock' to me", Mary said and shrugged her shoulder. She continued to stroke Toby, who enjoyed it very much, and Molly's heart skipped a beat. It would have been too sweet if that was true.

"Well, he was very nice and ensured a quick transportation to the vet clinic. I think he even held my hand."

Mary stopped stroking Toby and the cat opened his eyes and looked up at her.

"He didn't!"

Molly blushed a little.

"Well, not exactly. But he linked his fingers with mine, the back of our hands touching."

"Hm…so the robot can imitate human behavior. Interesting."

Toby rubbed his cheek on Mary's hand until she started petting him again.

"Stop calling him a robot, Mary", Molly reproached but couldn't keep the giggle out of her voice. Not because of the thing she said it, but the way she said it.

"At least let me have a little fun with him", Mary said sulkily.

"No. You should be friends, not enemies."

Mary visibly rolled her eyes, her attention fully on Toby now.

"Oh, poor little baby. Are you still in pain?"

Toby rubbed is head on her hand again and rolled onto his back to get her to pet his belly.

"Don't fall for those big eyes. He's quite well again. He just likes to be pampered, which I have done the last four days."

Mary laughed.

"He's just like every other man, then. Once they're sick, they turn into big babies."

"Yep."

The girls laughed. Toby didn't mind being insulted by the humans as long as he got petted.

"Sherlock really has trouble with his case, hasn't he?" Mary asked after a short silence. Molly nodded.

"John talks about it a lot. He can see the desperation on Sherlock's face when they find another victim."

"It's very weird. This guy picks out people at random, so it seems. There is no link at all. I had them on my slab and every time it looked like they simply had a heart attack."

"Aren't there poisons that make it look like that and leave no evidence?" Mary asked and Molly smiled.

"Very good! John?"

"CSI."

Molly laughed.

"Of course."

The girls chatted for about half an hour before Mary got up and put on her fancy black leather jacket.

"Well, goodbye you two. Ciao, sweetie", Mary said and petted Toby's head for one last time.

Just as she closed the door and turned toward the stairs, she saw a shadow disappear. Smirking, Mary went down.

Sherlock stood in the living room, staring at his charts. Mary stepped up to him.

"I have been told you had an essential role in Toby's survival."

"Hm."

She scanned the pictures and the map hanging above the fireplace and it was silent for a minute.

Sherlock could see her smile out of the corners of her eyes.

"You did a good thing for Molly. Thank you."

And with that, Mary turned around and left.

Sherlock was left alone, a smile on his face.


End file.
